


The Princess Bat

by Wrench_Wench



Series: Fics from Wrench_Wench's Tumblr [14]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Princess Bride Fusion, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Gen, Younger man crushing on older woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-12 21:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16879206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrench_Wench/pseuds/Wrench_Wench
Summary: After Stephanie makes an ill Damian watch "The Princess Bride" for the first time, the latest Boy Wonder has the weirdest dream.He's going to blame it all on the cough medicine.-Originally posted to tumblr in 2011





	1. Chapter 1

Part 1

Damian Wayne loathed being sick. He was rarely ill, so he didn’t cope well when he came down with something. The ten-year-old refused to acknowledge minor setbacks like colds, and would push himself to work in spite of his illness.  This was how he came to be in his current predicament.   Apparently, running around the roofs of Gotham in the middle of winter while nursing a cold was a bad idea. Instead of a cold, Damian now had pneumonia. To add insult to injury, Grayson had decreed that Damian needed a  _babysitter,_  of all things, to keep him from sneaking out and going on patrol.

So here he was, curled up on the living room couch, with an assortment of medicines, tea, and chicken soup arrayed on the coffee table. His minder for the evening was in the kitchen making popcorn. They had insisted it was necessary for Damian’s recovery that he watch a specific film. Damian couldn’t fathom how a movie, even “the most flawless one in cinematic history,” could fight off an infection. He went along with it anyways because Stephanie Brown could be very persuasive when she wanted to be.

“Come on Damian, cheer up. It’s not every night you get to watch movies with the most awesome person you know.” The afore mentioned blonde crime-fighter entered the room with a large bowl of popcorn.

Damian snorted at her pronouncement (or tried to; these things were difficult when you were so congested you could barely breathe). “Please. You should rephrase that to ‘the most pathetic person I know.’ Or the fattest. Are you really planning on eating all of the popcorn by yourself?”

Stephanie childishly stuck her tongue out at her young charge as she took a seat beside him on the couch. “It’s not like  _you_  should have any in your condition. Now hand me that remote.”

The current boy wonder grumbled to himself, but did as he was told. As his older companion fast forwarded through the DVD’s previews, Damian edged to the far end of couch. It was bad enough that  _one_  of them was sick, Stephanie’s carelessness would surely put her out of commission too if Damian wasn’t careful not to contaminate her. When the main menu came up on the screen, the ten-year-old found himself rolling his eyes at the movie’s title.

Really, what sort of name was “The Princess Bride”?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr intro: Part two, ladies and gentlemen, wherein I begin desecrating the greatest movie in history, and warp the personalities of several beloved comic book characters so that they can fit the part I assigned them. All in the name of fanfiction.

Damian knew immediately that he was dreaming. It was the only explanation for the vaguely medieval clothing he was wearing. And the fact that he could hear the narrator.

“What the hell is going on? And why do you sound like Pennyworth?”

Be quiet Master Damian, we need to start the story. Try not to break the fourth wall  _too_  much, the repairs are very troublesome.

Damian grew up on a small farm in the countryside of Gotham. The people who raised him were not his true parents, but rather tutors ordered to raise him so that Damian would make his biological family proud. Damian often wondered about his birth family, and was restless to leave his home and make his way in the world. Only the constant assurances that he would meet his family as soon as his education was complete kept the boy in one place. The farm held precious few amusements, and Damian entertained himself by harassing the farmgirl who worked there. Her name was Stephanie, but he never called her that.

Stephanie was raised in poverty, yet managed to be optimistic and cheerful in spite of the hardships she faced. She was diligent, and Damian reveled in forcing her to abandon her tasks to attend to his orders.

“Farmgirl, polish my weapons. I want to be able to see my face shining in them by morning.”

“As you wish.”

“Farmgirl, feed the cats. I can’t believe anyone would be so negligent.”

“As you wish.” This was all Stephanie ever said in reply to Damian’s demands. No matter how offensively the young man phrased his requests Stephanie would reply the same way and fulfill her duties with speed and cheer. Eventually, he realized that when she said “as you wish,” what she really meant was “I love you, even though you can be a real brat.”

“I am not a ‘brat’, you obnoxious narrator.”

Yes you are Master Damian, why else would your subconscious call you one? Back to the matter at hand. When Damian first realized how Stephanie felt about him, he spent some time deliberately antagonizing her. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, much less anyone else, but he wanted to see if her feelings were true. As no one had ever loved Damian before, he could hardly believe that someone whom he had treated abominably throughout his youth could ever care about him. When Stephanie continued to treat him with kindness, Damian’s efforts to antagonize her petered off and Damian began to treat the farmgirl with something approaching respect.

Damian was content with the status quo until one day something rather remarkable happened while he was studying.

“Farmgirl, fetch me a new quill. Please. This one is broken.”

“As you wish.”

When Stephanie handed Damian the new writing implement, she let it go prematurely. As both teenagers sought to catch the fumbled object, their fingers tangled together. Startled by the unexpected contact, Damian couldn’t help but stare at the scarred and calloused hands entwined with and indiscernible from his own. When the farmgirl withdrew, Damian was struck by a sudden sense of emptiness. When he contemplated the cause of this feeling, Damian was amazed to discover that he was in love with Stephanie.

“W-what!? I am not!”

If you say so, Master Damian. I’m just your subconscious, what do I know? Just tell yourself its only part of the story.

Time passed, and Damian was reluctant to share his epiphany with anyone, especially the object of his affections. If Damian had difficulty accepting that someone felt true care for him, such difficulty was multiplied a hundredfold when faced with the reality of his own affections. As a result, his mercurial treatment of the farmgirl was enough to drive a lesser person to tears. For her part, Stephanie bore Damian’s shifting temper well, being ever sweeter to his face while rolling her eyes when his back was turned. Damian would later wonder how much his action contributed to Stephanie’s death.

“What death? What are you talking about? This isn’t amusing, Narrator!”

Several months after Damian’s second epiphany, Stephanie announced to her employers that she planned to seek her fortune across the sea. Damian was at first stunned, then furious when he heard the news from his tutors. Immediately, he stormed over to the small outbuilding that Stephanie called home, and knocked until she came to the door. Before Stephanie could even open her mouth to greet him, Damian began ranting.

“What is the meaning of this ridiculous rumor? You can’t be leaving. You’re not allowed to leave.”

Stephanie appeared nonplussed. “I’m not a serf, so I think you’ll find that I can leave whenever I please.”

“It’s not a matter of  _can_ , it’s a matter of  _should_. You definitely  _should not_  leave.”

The (soon-to-be former) farmgirl let her good humor show with a wry smile. “Why ever  _shouldn’t_ I leave?”

“Because-” if Stephanie saw the desperation on Damian’s face, she made no mention of it, or attempt to soothe it. “Because there are dangers out there that a simple farmgirl wouldn’t be able to handle. Certainly you would have no luck against pirates or brigands.”

“Do you think me so ignorant of the lessons you’ve been taking for so long? I may not be formally trained like you, but I can certainly defend myself. I have no reason to fear these dangers you speak of, so why else shouldn’t I leave?”

If Stephanie were truly as sweet and kind as she had always acted towards him, she would put Damian out of his misery. As it was, she had a hidden ruthless side to her personality, which Damian had never experienced until this day (and which secretly impressed him, though he disliked it at the moment). Stephanie continued the press and question the young man at her door until he ran out of excuses for her to stay.

“Surely you can find a replacement who is just as good at taking care of your cats, so why shouldn’t I leave?”

Bereft of any other answers, Damian found himself blurting out the truth. “You shouldn’t leave because you are the only person here who gives a damn about me, and I love you!”

Stephanie and Damian stared at each other for a moment, in a state of total shock, neither certain as to how to respond to such a revelation. Just as Damian was beginning to regain his wits, Stephanie slammed her door in his face. Staring at the rough hewn wood, Damian could barely work up any anger before the door was opened once more. Scarcely before he could register that Stephanie had returned, Damian was pulled forward and into the farmgirl’s embrace. When Damian realized what was happening and began to reciprocate Stephanie’s unexpected kiss, she pulled away and shut the door in his face once more.

“What.” Damian skipped shock altogether this time, and moved quickly to anger and frustration. He had just poured his heart out, and she went and did something like that? Was she trying to make a joke out of him? “Well the joke is on her, Narrator. I would never act that way towards Fatgirl. What planet are you living on that you would ever think I would be the slightest bit interested in her? I certainly-”

Damian fell immediately silent when the door opened again, turning his cautiously hopeful gaze towards the emerging figure. His hope was quickly squashed when he realized that Stephanie was dressed for travel and carrying a large rucksack. She had a nervous smile on her face, and she rolled her eyes when she saw Damian’s closed off expression.

“Don’t be like that. It’s more important than ever that I make my own way now. I’ve always wanted to prove myself, and if I don’t do it now, everyone will just think I was only ever planning on relying on you.”

“What does it matter what anyone else thinks of you? You and I will know it isn’t true.”

“Maybe so, but I still want to be something more than a poor 'farmgirl’. I want to prove to myself that I can accomplish something on my own.”

“Once you do that, will I ever see you again? You wouldn’t be the first person to forget about me here.”

Stephanie reached out and grasped Damian’s hands. “I won’t forget. Do you think something like this happens everyday?” Upon seeing Damian’s still skeptical expression she continued, “Ask me to return.”

The slightest smile flickered across Damian’s face before he assumed his most haughty expression and tone. “Farmgirl, return here as soon as you have adequately 'proven your worth’.”

“As you wish.”

-

Those who knew Damian best were quick to notice how his mood was in sync with the postal service. During the long droughts between letters, the young man was sullen. The arrival of a letter brought about muted excitement and anticipation. Depending on who sent the letter, Damian had one of two reactions; frustrated dismissal followed by several days of a dark mood, or quiet glee followed by several days where Damian seemed almost happy. It was clear to anyone that Damian was deeply in love with the person who sent him those letters.

Which is probably why it hit him so hard when he found out that she’d been murdered.

The news was all over the nearby town; Stephanie Brown’s ship had been attacked by the dreaded pirate Batman, and had never made it to port. Everyone knew that The Batman never took prisoners. When Damian heard the news, he was so distraught that he locked himself in his room for almost an entire week. In that time he neither slept nor ate. When Damian finally emerged, his guardians cautiously inquired after his health.

“I am fine, but I shall never love again.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr intro: In which Jason Todd is driven by revenge, Dick Grayson is an acrobat who fights gangs for local charities, and Tim Drake is a criminal mastermind. Two out of three isn’t bad, right? Besides, we can blame any inconsistencies or out of character moments on the fact that this is taking place inside Damian’s head. Also featured: Damian argues with the narrator and nearly shatters the fourth wall. And somehow I’ve managed to insert hints of seriousness into my absurd crackfic.

Part 3

 

Five years later the regent of Gotham, Ra’s al Ghul, announced that he had at last found his missing grandson and heir. How joyous was the day when young Damian was returned to his mother’s embrace. The people were thrilled by their new Prince; he was so handsome, so dignified, so intelligent. He earned their immediate loyalty by simple virtue of being raised among them. Surely, they thought, the prince would show great compassion for those he had lived among for so long. The populace could hardly wait for him to assume the throne on his next birthday.

For his part, Damian’s emptiness consumed him. He appreciated the new luxuries available to him, and he didn’t want to disappoint his newly doting mother, but he was rarely happy. The prince was dutiful, though not always respectful. The only joy Damian found was in his daily ride patrolling the borders of the capital. He was often gone for hours, which is why it took the palace staff some time to realize he had been kidnapped.

Damian had been riding near the Gotham River when he came across the three men. They appeared to be brothers, as all three had dark hair and similarly colored eyes.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me. Narrator, why are Drake and Todd in my dream? I could possibly understand Grayson’s presence, but I had better get to kill the other two.”

Master Damian, please withhold your commentary until you know which role they’re playing. The shortest of the men moved closer to Damian’s horse, a polite smile pasted to his face. “My Lord, we are but poor lost circus performers. Is there a village nearby?”

Damian glared at the man warily, and subtly reached for the dagger hidden in his boot. “There is nothing nearby, not for miles.”

The shortest man’s smile remained deceptively bland, “Then there will be no one to hear you scream.”

Before Damian could throw his dagger at the closest assailant, the short man managed to move close and deliver a nerve pinch to the prince. As the young man fell unconscious, he cried out oddly.

“Goddammit Narrator!”

—

Jason Todd surveyed the scene before him with a sneer of distaste. Dick was carrying the unconscious prince to the small ship anchored in the river while Tim was messing with the saddle of the prince’s horse. The pretender wore the smug expression that meant he thought he had done something particularly clever and wanted to gloat about it to everyone. It was an expression that never failed to make Jason want to punch him. Since that wouldn’t help them on their current job, Jason rolled his eyes and decided to indulge his “leader”, if only to get the chance to find a flaw that would deflate Timmy’s head a little bit.

“What are you doing to the horse?”

“I’m making it look like a piece of a Bludhaven soldier’s uniform got caught on the buckle during the struggle to kidnap the prince. When the regent sees it he’ll suspect them of abducting his heir, and finding the prince’s body on the Bludhaven frontier will confirm it.” While Tim spoke, he finished with the horse and sent it on its way.

The two men made their way to the ship, where Dick was standing with a disapproving expression on his face. “You never said anything about killing anyone.”

“I’ve hired you to start a  _war_. It’s a prestigious line of work, with a long and glorious tradition.”

Dick was looking at the prince’s crumpled body. “I just don’t think it’s right, killing an innocent boy.”

Jason discretely rolled his eyes when Tim began ranting at Dick, and began freeing the ship from its mooring. Really, only Dickie-bird would look at the prince and think of him as a  _boy_. And he was a member of the Al Ghul Dynasty; no matter that he’d been raised on some obscure little farm, no member of  _that_  family could be counted as innocent. Still… “I agree with Grayson.”

“Oh, the  _saint_  has spoken! What happens to him is none of your concern.  _I_  will kill him.” Tim stormed over to where Jason was standing near the deck’s edge. “And remember this, never forget this: when I found you, you were so slobbering drunk, you couldn’t buy brandy. Tell me, have you managed to scrub the blood out of that shirt, yet?”

Jason was about to snarl out a response to Tim bringing up  _that_  incident, but the shorter man had already turned on Dick. “And you! Friendless, helpless, hopeless! Do you want me to send you back to where you were? Unemployed, in  _Bialya_?”

Tim stormed over to check the prince’s binds, leaving an angry Jason and hurt Dick. Jason moved towards his older friend. Dick looked so pathetic that Jay found himself trying his best to cheer the man up (it didn’t hurt that it was bound to irritate Timmy). “Holy roid rage, Grayson! I guess Tim doesn’t like people who take a  _principled_  stance.”

Dick smiled hesitantly, “Maybe he just wants to make a  _killing_  on this.”

“He’s certainly not  _at war_  with himself over it.”

“I suppose he has a more  _mercenary_  view of the world than we do.”

Tim scowled at the older men and gestured for them to straighten the ships rigging. “Cut that out.”

“Dick, do you know what  _punomenon_  he’s talking about?”

“I don’t think he likes it when other people are having  _pun_  on the job, Jay.”

“No more puns now, I mean it!”

“Be careful Timmy, you don’t want to enter a state of  _pundemonium_.”

“Gah!”

—

Night had fallen by the time Damian woke up.

“Goddammit Narrator.”

Master Damian, what have I said about the fourth wall? You’re supposed to pretend to be asleep so that you can make an escape attempt unnoticed.

“Fine.”

He carefully observed his shipmates, still feigning sleep. Todd was gazing out past the stern of the ship, as though looking for something. Grayson was idly practicing handstands, which is more difficult than one would think when you’re on a rocking boat. Drake was seated across from Damian’s position, eating an apple. The three kidnappers were in the middle of a conversation.

“- making sure nobody’s following us.”

“That would be inconceivable.”

Damian had to suppress a tut at Drake’s ego. Grandfather doubtless already had his best men on their trail, and was probably leading them himself. Knowing the old demon, he would kill all three kidnappers himself. That being said, Damian would prefer to extract himself from this situation without his grandfather’s interference. The prince began to subtly pick at the knot on the ropes binding his hands. Damian was so focused on this that he didn’t notice how Grayson was carefully not looking at him, or how Todd deliberately drew Drake into another distracting argument.

“Would you stop doing that? We can all relax, it’s almost over.”

“Are you certain nobody is following us?”

“As I told you; it would be absolutely, totally, and in all other ways inconceivable. No one in Bludhaven knows what we’ve done, and no one in Gotham could have gotten here so fast.”

Jason was less than impressed by this response, and his flat stare managed to unnerve Tim enough to prompt further conversation. “Out of curiosity, why do you ask?”

“It’s just that I happened to look behind us and something is there.”

“What?!”

Drake moved to stand beside Todd, and Grayson turned look in the same direction. With everyone else’s attention diverted to the expanse of water behind the ship, Damian redoubled his efforts to be rid of his now loosened bonds. Damian was a strong swimmer, and the channel between Gotham and Bludhaven was narrow enough that he was certain he could swim to shore once his limbs were free.

“It’s probably some local fisherman out for a pleasure cruise. At night. Through eel infested waters.” Drake didn’t sound like even he believed the words coming out of his mouth.

The splash Damian made when he dove overboard was enough to grab the attention of the others on the boat. Drake immediately turned to Todd and ordered him to go in after the prince. Jason’s expression remained deadpan. “I don’t swim.”

When Drake turned to Grayson, the older man was wearing his most innocent expression. “I only dog paddle.”

With a cry of frustration, Tim ordered his accomplices to turn the boat after their escaped prisoner. Before they made much headway, an odd howling sound began to echo around them. Damian stopped swimming momentarily to try and identify the source of the noise.

“Do you know what that sound it, Highness?” Drake called from the ship. “Those are the shrieking eels. If you don’t believe me, just wait; they always get louder when they’re about to feed on human flesh.”

Damian ignored the man, and began swimming again. Unfortunately, his route was blocked off by the arrival of an alarmingly large sea serpent. Drake called out again, his voice somewhat closer, “If you swim back now, I promise you that no harm will come to you. I doubt you’ll get such an offer from the eels.”

The prince didn’t believe the other man for a second, and kept an eye out for more of the monstrous creatures. He was fairly certain he’d be able to kill one if it came to that. That certainty didn’t take into account the sudden terror that gripped him when one of the eels began to charge him, it’s mouth open so that all of its incredibly sharp teeth were fully visible. It was fortunate, then, that the ship had gotten close enough for Grayson to reach out and punch the beast’s head before plucking Damian out of the water.

Drake moved close and immediately started binding the soaked prince’s wrists. “I supposed you think you’re brave, don’t you?”

Damian glared haughtily at his captor. “Only compared to some.”

Todd chose this moment to interrupt. “I think he’s getting closer.”

Drake turned away from Damian and snarled at his accomplice. “He’s no concern of ours. Sail on!”

—

The edge of the sky was a combination of pink and orange when Jason and Tim began discussing their mysterious tail again.

“Look! He’s right on top of us.” Jason adjusted his grip on one of the sail lines and added thoughtfully, “I wonder if he’s using the same wind we’re using.”

“Whoever he is, he’s too late.” Tim pointed ahead gleefully, “See? The Cliffs of Arkham!”

The closer they got to the bottom of the cliffs, the more enthusiastically Drake encouraged his cohorts to speed up. Many of his directions were less than helpful, as he didn’t know the proper names for many of the ship’s parts. When they reached a small beach with a rope dangling from the top of the cliff face, Drake hustled everyone off the ship.

“We’re safe. No one else is strong enough to go up our way. He’ll have to sail around for hours before he finds a harbor. Dick, you’ll carry the prince.”

Damian saw little point in resisting as he was strapped into a harness and attached to Grayson. The acrobat quickly began scaling the rope, with Drake following and Todd bringing up the rear. Damian had to admit to himself that the cliffs appeared alarmingly tall. As much as he wanted to escape, he knew that attempting such a task at this moment would be suicidal.

They were perhaps a fifth of the way up the cliffside when the second boat was close enough to the shore for a figure dressed completely in black to jump out. They grabbed the rope and proceeded to climb with alarming speed.

Jason’s voice had an air of cynical amusement as he observed the situation. “Huh. He’s climbing the rope. And he’s gaining on us.”

“Inconceivable.” Drake’s tone had the sort of awed horror one might have expected Jason to display, given that Todd would be the first person to have to deal with their determined pursuer while dangling hundreds of feet in the air. “Faster, Dick!”

“I thought I  _was_  going faster.”

“You were supposed to be this living wonder, you were this great legendary thing!” Drake snapped, “And yet he  _gains_.”

“Yeah, well I’m carrying almost two hundred pounds of dead weight, and he’s got only himself.”

“I do not accept excuses. I’m just going to have to find myself a new acrobat, that’s all. I hear Deadman’s looking for work.”

Grayson sighed, “Don’t say that, Timmy.”

Jason rolled his eyes once more, and really wished that the others would concentrate on moving instead of arguing. He was really uncomfortable with how close the figure in black was getting.

After what seemed like an eternity, the odd quartet finally reached the clifftop. Dick all but collapsed once he was securely away from the ledge, and Jason scrambled to remove Damian from the harness. For his part, Drake drew the dagger he’d confiscated from the prince, and used it to saw away at the rope. In short order, the rope snapped and slid over the cliff’s edge.

Grayson and Todd glanced over the edge, only to see the small black figure clinging to the rock face. The climber looked up at them as if to say “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Grayson made an approving noise, “They’ve got very good arms. And reflexes.”

That comment drew Drake’s attention. “He didn’t fall? Inconceivable!”

Jason glanced at his employer and cocked an eyebrow. “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.” The sound of shifting gravel drew their attention back the the person in black. Todd let out a low whistle, “Damn, he’s  _climbing_. I didn’t think this place had decent enough handholds to do that.”

Drake waved his hand dismissively, “Whoever he is, he’s obviously seen us with the prince and must therefore die.” He gestured to Grayson. “You, carry the prince.” Drake turned to Todd. “We’ll head straight for the Bludhaven frontier. Catch up when he’s dead. If he falls, fine. If not, the sword.”

Jason followed Drake as he began moving inland. “I’m going to do him left-handed.”

The shorter man spun to face him, “You  _know_ what a hurry we’re in.”

“It’s the only way I can be satisfied. If I use my right, it’ll be over too quickly.”

“Fine, have it your way.”

Before they moved out, Dick clasped Jason’s shoulder. “You be careful; people in masks can’t be trusted.”

Jason nodded in response. Once the rest of the group was out of sight, he began to slowly warm up and inspect his potential battleground. The rope had been anchored to a boulder that was part of the ruins of an ancient castle. The ruined stairways and walls made for an interesting place to do battle. Should his opponent reach the top, they would be at a disadvantage; Jason knew the lay of the land, and had the opportunity to rest after the climb. Add that to his already superior knowledge of swordplay, and the young man’s sense of justice was rankled. Even if he didn’t use his dominant hand, Jason would have so many advantages that this fight would be far from fair. And that was if the Man in Black even made it to the top.

The swordsman peeked over the edge at the Man in Black. “Hello there!” He waved down at the figure, “Slow going?”

It was hard to tell, given the distance and the mask, but the Man in Black seemed to glare up at Jason. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but this is not as easy as it looks. So I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t distract me.”

Jason nodded in understanding, and privately observed that the Man in Black must be quite scared; his voice was awfully high pitched. “Sorry.”

“Thank you.”

After a few more moments of practicing moves with his left hand, Jason sighed in frustration. Climbing free-handed seemed to take forever, and it was making Jay impatient. He didn’t like the idea of being separated from Dick for so long on a dangerous job (he didn’t care one way or the other when it came to Tim). He peered back over the ledge.

“I don’t suppose you could speed things up?”

“Look, if you’re in  _such_  a hurry, you  _could_  lower a rope, or a tree branch, or find something  _useful_ to do.” When the Man in Black spoke, his words were further emphasized with small grunts of exertion as he slowly pulled himself up the cliff face.

“I could do that. I’ve got some rope up here. But I don’t think you would accept my help, since I’m only waiting around to kill you.”

“That  _does_  put a damper on our relationship.”

“But, I promise I will  _not_  kill you until you reach the top.”

“That’s  _very_  comforting, but I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait.”

“I hate waiting. I could give you my word as a Gothamite?”

“No good. I’ve known too many Gothamites.”

“Isn’t there any way you’ll trust me?”

“Nothing that comes to mind.” The last was said with a dismissive sing-song tone.

“I swear on the soul of my father, you will reach the top alive.” The quiet sincerity in that statement caught the attention of the figure clinging to the cliffside. Looking up, the expression on Jason’s face was enough to convince them.

“Throw me the rope.”

In short order, Jason had helped to pull the Man in Black to the top of the cliff, only to receive a shock when he helped them gain their balance. The dogged pursuer who had tailed their ship all night, and climbed the sheer cliffside like a trained professional, was a woman. Jason nearly laughed in surprised delight. Wouldn’t little Timmy be surprised?

Still gasping for breath, the Woman in Black reached for the sword at her side. Jay quickly gestured for her to stop. “We’ll wait until you’re ready. It’s no fun if you’re too winded to hold your sword straight.”

In spite of the mask covering her face, the Woman in Black gave the impression of smiling as she sat down beside one of the remaining stone walls. “Thank you.”

While the Woman in Black shook the pebbles out of her boots, Jason observed her curiously. He had originally believed that her outfit was completely black, but he upon closer inspection it had purple trimming. Her hair and face was completely covered by a black mask that had two odd points on top, reminiscent of ears. “I do not mean to pry,” Jason hesitantly began, “But you don’t happen to have scars from having you mouth sliced open, do you?”

The Woman in Black paused in replacing her boots, “Do you always begin conversations this way?”

“My father was murdered by someone with those scars.”

The Woman in Black carefully peeled her mask up to her nose. Once Jason was satisfied in seeing her unblemished lips, she replaced her mask and resumed her previous task. Feeling as though he owed the woman further explanation for his invasion of her privacy, the swordsman began recounting his tale.

“My father was a great man. He fought for justice in Gotham. One day, a man determined to spread chaos came and stabbed my father through the heart. The only thing people would tell me about him was that he had those scars.” Seeing that he had his audience’s full attention, Jason continued.

“I love my father, so I’ve been searching for his killer ever since.”

“How old were you?”

“I was eleven. When I was strong enough, I dedicated my life the the study of combat, so that when I find my father’s killer I will be ready for him. I’ll go up to the scarred man and say ‘Hello, my name is Jason Todd-Wayne. You killed my father. Prepare to die.'”

The swordsman didn’t notice the way the Woman in Black momentarily froze upon hearing her opponent’s full name. “You’ve done nothing but study combat?”

“More pursue than study, recently. You see, I cannot find him; it’s been ten years now and I’m starting to lose confidence. I only work for Drake to pay the bills. There’s not a lot of money in revenge.”

After a moment considering what it takes to finance a quest for vengeance, the Woman in Black pushed herself to stand. “Well, I certainly hope you find him someday.”

“Are you ready then?”

“Whether I am or not, you’ve been more than fair.”

“You seem a decent lady, I hate to kill you.”

“You seem a decent fellow, I hate to die.”

With that, they drew their swords. Now, dear readers, (“What readers?! How can something taking place in  _my subconscious_  have  _readers,_ Narrator?” It’s too complicated for me to explain here, Master Damian. And if I do, then the fourth wall will be irreparably damaged, and you’ll face an existential crisis. You may even start thinking in little yellow boxes. “What does that even  _mean_?”) it is nearly impossible to describe a fencing match between two masters without getting extremely technical. As this fight involved two opponents who were probably a step above mere masters, any description would be incomprehensible to anyone who wasn’t well versed in fencing techniques. Suffice to say, it was a dazzling battle. Both participants felt the enjoyment of facing a worthy opponent, and were duly impressed by the others’ skill. There was a great deal of trickery, witty repartee, and gratuitous acrobatics, and both fighters revealed that they had not been using their dominant hand at first. Finally, the Woman in Black managed to disarm Jason and knock him to his knees. She held her blade to his throat.

“Just kill me quickly.”

“I would sooner burn down a gallery than destroy an artist like yourself. However, since I can’t have you following me either… Please understand I hold you in the highest respect.” Before Jason could see what was happening, the woman reached out and jabbed a particular cluster of nerves. Jason was unconscious before he hit the ground, and the Woman in Black was already following the tracks left by Drake and Grayson.

—

“Inconceivable!”

Damian was getting very tired of that word. He had been dragged several miles inland, into a verdant hilly area with a liberal smattering of boulders. Drake had just put away his spyglass, with which he had spotted their black clad stalker making his way through the nearby meadows. The prince was once more being manhandle as Drake grabbed his arm and started pulling him over the crest of the hill. All the while he was shouting orders at Grayson.

“Catch up with us quickly.”

“What should I do?”

“Finish him. Finish him your way.”

Grayson adopted a tone so oblivious, it must have been facetious. “Oh good, my way. Thank you, Timmy. Which way is my way?”

“Pick up one of those rocks. Get behind a boulder.” Drake was talking slowly, as if he were speaking to a dim child. “In a few minutes, the man in black will come running around the bend. When he does, hit his  _head_  with the rock.”

Damian could hear Dick mumbling to himself as he was dragged out of view. “My way’s not very sportsman-like.”

—

Dick Grayson was an out of luck acrobat who had turned his skills to fighting to protect others. While he was quite good at what he did, his work to make the world a better place had cost him dearly over the years. When he was at his lowest, Tim and Jason had found him. Dick had loved his new family, and did his best to smooth things over when the two younger men would get into one of their frequent fights. As time went by, Tim grew increasingly erratic and distant, and treated both Dick and Jason with a great deal of condescension. He took increasingly dangerous jobs, culminating in their current mission. While he waited for the arrival of the Man in Black, Dick mulled over his current situation. As much as it pained him, Dick knew that the moment this job was finished, he and Tim would go their separate ways. If Jason was alive (God, he  _hoped_  Jason was still alive), Dick would ask the swordsman to leave with him.

Dick was pulled from his musings by a flicker of black in his peripheral vision. Dick threw the rock in his hand with such force that it shattered against a tall boulder, right above the surprisingly short Man in Black’s head.

Woman in Black, Dick corrected himself mentally upon getting a better look. That explained the height. He briefly wondered if she was single, because there was nothing Dick found more attractive than a woman who could fight (except perhaps red hair, Dick had a serious weakness for red hair. Maybe the Woman in Black had red hair? He couldn’t tell with that cowl covering her head). Given that she was here and Jason was not, and the fact that her immediate reaction to the rock thrown at her head was to draw her sword, the Woman in Black could clearly fight. Dick decided to speak before he went off on another mental tangent.

“I did that on purpose. I don’t have to miss.”

“I believe you. So what happens now?”

“We face each other in a fair fight; no tricks, no weapons. Skill against skill alone.” Dick briefly wondered if he had an unfair advantage in this fight due to his acrobatic ability, but dismissed it when he remembered that this woman had taken out Jason. Clearly there was more to her than met the eye.

“You mean, you’ll put down your rock and I’ll put down my sword, and we’ll try and kill each other like civilized people?” There was a definite note of sarcasm in her tone, which Dick didn’t really appreciate.

“I could kill you now, if you prefer.”

The Woman in Black gave off the impression of looking him over; Dick knew that he cut a rather impressive figure (despite the fact that he was shorter than Jason), and that wasn’t just referring to his good looks. “Frankly, I think the odds are  _slightly_  in your favor at hand-to-hand.”

“It’s not my fault that I’m so amazing. I don’t even have to try.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Dick had learned long ago that no one could beat you if no one could touch you. So he relied on his acrobatics to stay out of most fighter’s range. The terrain was helpful to this end currently, because he was able to flip between boulders when he wasn’t trying to land a hit on his foe. The Woman in Black glared at him after the first few flips pulled Dick out of her range at the last moment. “Are you just messing with me, or what?”

“I just want you to feel that your doing well, I hate for people to die feeling embarrassed. Most people can’t even get that close to me, you know.” It was clear from her posture that the Woman in Black wasn’t buying Dick’s explanation. The fact that he had to rely on her body movement to discern the other fighter’s feelings brought a question to the acrobat’s mind. “How come you’re wearing that mask? Was half of your face blown off in an explosion, or something?”

“Oh no, it’s just that I find them to be terribly comfortable. I think everyone will be wearing them in the future. Think about it- entire societies of people wearing masks.”

Dick laughed, and failed to notice the way the Woman in Black was considering the boulder that he was currently perched on. Dick made a fatal mistake; he didn’t adjust his technique for single combat. Recently, Dick had only be fighting large groups, fighting gangs for local charities and the like, and had gotten used to that type of brawl. Since you used different moves when you only have one opponent, Dick had squandered his advantage. He realized this when the Woman in Black managed to get the jump on him. Literally.

Had there been anyone to see it (“What are you talking about, Narrator? I’m seeing it! Which doesn’t even make any sense.”), the combatants would have appeared to be quite a sight. A tall, muscular man with a figure dressed head to toe in black clinging to him like some sort of koala, staggering around like a drunk person, slamming his passenger into various boulders. Dick would look back on this and laugh, but currently he couldn’t even breathe. With the last vestiges of consciousness, Dick heard the Woman in Black speak.

“I’m sorry about the headache this’ll give you. In the meantime, rest well and dream of awesome things.”

Dick smiled, and thought about redheaded warrior women.

—

Ra’s al Ghul dispassionately observed the scene before him. A small unit of mounted guards were at attention by one of the ruined castle’s few remaining walls. He hoped that the horses would allow the group to make up the time they’d lost in searching for a harbor nearby. The Cliffs of Arkham had been an inconvenient obstacle in pursuing the boy’s kidnappers. Judging by the prints in the sandy floor, Ra’s would have to deal with another inconvenience before he met his objective.

“There was a mighty duel here.” The aged regent carefully retraced the prints in the sand. “It ranged all over. Both opponents were masters of their craft.” It was easy to decipher who’s moves belonged to who, given that one of the duelists had much smaller footprints than the other. An unwelcome voice interrupted the Demon Head’s thoughts.

“Who won? How did it end?”

Ra’s sent a brief glare in the speaker’s direction. The man’s face was obscured by a traveling cloak, which was probably for the best; it would be unseemly for him to be recognized in the regent’s company. The only reason he was on this trip was because Talia would likely use the opportunity of her father’s absence to take revenge on the cloaked man for the events of ten years ago, never mind that they were responsible for the Al Ghul’s current prosperity. Still, as useful as he was to Ra’s, the man could be a hassle to deal with.

“The winner followed the others towards Bludhaven, while the loser ran off alone.”

“Shall we track them both?”

Ra’s made a show of correcting his aide. “The loser is nothing, only the prince matters.” The regent addressed the group at large, “Clearly this was all planned by warriors of Bludhaven, we must all be ready for whatever lies ahead.”

Ra’s mounted his horse with a flourish of his cape. The troop was about to set out when the cloaked man spoke again, his voice tinged with amusement. “Could this be a trap?”

The regent sneered at his underling, “I always think everything is a trap, that is why  _I_  am still alive.”

The guards couldn’t understand why this caused the cloaked man to break into uncontrollable laughter. They were unnerved by it’s ghastly sound, and the fact that he carried on laughing as they rode out. Really, the guards hated that their lord was so insistent on bringing his mad jester on this mission.

—

Damian only knew that the Woman in Black arrived by the sound of her footsteps. And the way that Drake’s purloined dagger suddenly felt closer to his neck. Really, blindfolds could be quite inconvenient.

“If I’m blindfolded, then why do I still know everything that’s going on, Narrator? I can even see things that I’m not present for, and know what people are thinking.”

That’s because you dream in third person omniscient, Master Damian.

“Fine. Why doesn’t anyone else notice our conversations?”

Because it’s  _your_  dream, Master Damian. Everyone here is just a construct of your subconscious, and they don’t notice things unless you want them to. I’m sure you don’t want people thinking you’re insane in your own dreams. Now, may we continue?

“Tt.”

Thank you.

The Woman in Black (who really should be called the Woman in Black and Purple) slowed her steps when Tim and Damian came into sight. They were seated around a boulder that had been set like a table, with a bottle of wine and two goblets on top of it. Apparently, Tim decided that it was appropriate to stop for lunch when he was in the middle of being chased by a mysterious masked person.

“So, it is down to you, and it is down to me.”

When the masked woman made to move to step closer, Drake pressed the dagger into the prince’s throat.

“If you wish him dead, by all means keep moving forward.”

The woman stopped. She opened her arms in a show of innocence, and gave the impression of smiling charmingly. “Let me explain,” she suavely began.

Drake wasn’t having any of it. “There’s nothing to explain. You’re trying to kidnap what I’ve rightfully stolen.”

“Perhaps an arrangement can be reached?” The woman took a few slow steps towards the duo.

“There will be no arrangement. And you’re killing him.” This time, the dagger drew a thin cut near Damian’s jugular. The prince grimaced at the feel of it.

“Well if there can be no arrangement, then we are at an impasse.” This was said in an overly nonchalant tone.

“I’m afraid so. If you’ve defeated my partners then I clearly can’t compete with you physically, and you’re no match for my brains.”

“You’re that smart?” Damian nearly smiled when he heard the skepticism in the woman’s tone.

“Let me put it this way: have you ever heard of Luthor? Holt? Kord?”

“Yes.”

“Morons.”

“Really.” The woman clearly didn’t believe Drake’s boasting. Damian didn’t blame her. “In that case I challenge you to a battle of wits.”

“For the prince?”

The woman nodded.

“To the death?”

Another nod. Drake withdrew the dagger. “I accept.”

“Good.” The woman’s voice was cheery as she moved closer, “Then pour the wine.”

After seating herself across from Drake, the woman withdrew a small cylindrical canister from her belt. She removed the lid and passed the tube to her foe. “Inhale this, but do not touch.”

Drake took a cautious sniff. A slight frown marred his brow as he returned the container to the woman’s outstretched hand. “I smell nothing.”

“What you do not smell is Alter Clementia powder. It is odorless, tasteless, dissolves instantly in liquid, and is among the more deadly poisons known to man.”

Drake made a thoughtful noise. The woman took both goblets of wine from the boulder, and moved them to where her opponent could not see. After presumably emptying the vial of poison into one, she brought them back into view. Drake rolled his eyes when the woman made a show of shuffling the goblets’ positions.

The Woman in Black peeled up the lower half of her mask, revealing a charming smile. She gestured theatrically towards the table setting. “Alright, where is the poison? The battle of wits has begun.” She pointed at Drake, “It ends when you decide and we both drink. Then we will find out who is right, and who is dead.”

A smug smile plastered itself to Tim’s face. “But it’s so simple,” he said condescendingly. “All I have to do is divine what I know of you. Are you the sort of woman who would put the poison into their own goblet or into your enemy’s?”

The woman’s smile gave away nothing, save amusement.

“Now, a clever person would put the poison into their own goblet because they would know that only a great  _fool_  would reach for what they were given. I am not a great fool, so I can clearly  _not_  choose the wine in front of you. But  _you_  must have known I was not a great fool, you would have counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of  _me_.”

“You’ve made your decision then?” The amusement in the woman’s tone reminded Damian of a cat toying with it’s prey. Perhaps it had the same effect on Drake.

“Not remotely! Because Alter Clementia comes from Australia. And as everyone knows, Australia is populated entirely by criminals.” Damian couldn’t help but snort at the hypocrisy of that statement coming out of the mouth of a  _Gothamite_  of all people. “And criminals are used to having people not trust them, as you are not trusted by me, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you.”

“Truly, you have a dizzying intellect.” This was said in such a flat tone that Damian was certain that the Woman in Black was mocking Drake. Wrapped up in his own ego, Drake didn’t notice.

“Wait till I get going! Where was I?”

“Australia.”

“Yes, Australia. And you must have suspected I would have known the powder’s origin, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.”

The Woman in Black was unimpressed by these deductions. “You’re just stalling now.”

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you? You’ve beaten my acrobat, which means you must by exceptionally strong, so you could’ve put the poison in your own cup and counted on your strength to save you. So I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you’ve also bested my swordsman, which means you must have studied. And in studying you must have learned that man is mortal, so you would have put the poison as far from yourself as possible. So I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.”

The Woman in Black looked bored, almost as though she was waiting for something tiring to finish. “You’re trying to trick me into giving away something. It won’t work.”

“It already has worked! You’ve given  _everything_  away. I know where the poison is.”

“Then make your choice.”

“I will. And I choose – what the heck is that?!”

“What? Where?” The Woman in Black made an exaggerated show of looking in the direction Drake had pointed while the man in question switched the goblets around. Beneath the blindfold, Damian rolled his eyes at such an obvious ploy. “I don’t see anything.”

“Oh, I could’ve sworn I saw something. No matter.” Drake could barely suppress his laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’ll tell you in a moment. But first, let’s drink. Me from my glass, and you from yours.” Both players picked up their goblets and raised them in a silent toast before sipping from them.

The Woman in Black grinned. “You guessed wrong.”

“You only think I guessed wrong, that’s what’s so funny! I switched glasses when your back was turned. Haha you fool!”

The woman appeared utterly unconcerned by this. She merely peered closely at Drake, in seeming anticipation. The man continued his monologue.

“You fell victim to one of of the classic blunders. The most famous is 'never get involved in a land war in Asia.’ But only slightly less well known is this: 'never go in against a Gothamite when  _death_  is on the line!'” Drake proceeded to laugh maniacally. He was quite cheery until he began to foam at the mouth and abruptly keeled over.

The Woman in Black observed all of this calmly before walking over to Damian. She kneeled before him and gently removed the prince’s blindfold.

“Who are you?”

“I am no one to be trifled with.” The Woman in Black drew a knife and began cutting away the ropes binding Damian’s limbs. “That is all you ever need know.”

Damian chose not to push the issue right away, and glanced over at his former captor. “And to think; all that time it was your cup that was poisoned.”

“Neither of them were poisoned.” The woman grinned at the prince before re-adjusting her mask and pulling him to his feet. “ _Matris_  Alter Clementia, also known as 'Black Mercy’, works through being inhaled. It puts the victim into an almost inescapable coma, but it takes a few minutes to go into effect. The wine was just a ruse to buy time.”

Damian gazed at the Woman in Black with new respect, and calmly followed her as she took his hand and began leading him away.

—

Ra’s tried to analyze the scene of Dick Grayson’s recent dirt nap. Unable to make heads or tails of what he could see, the regent stormed back to his horse. Before continuing on, he pronounced that there would be great suffering in Bludhaven if the prince were dead.

—

Damian was getting very tired of mysterious people dragging him to God only knows where. He hadn’t eaten since he left the palace, nor had he slept (unless you counted the time he had been knocked unconscious at the start of this misadventure). The Woman in Black must have realized his mounting exhaustion, for she came to a rather abrupt stop at the peak of a hill and gestured for the prince to rest.

“Catch your breath.”

Damian glared at his current captor. “If you release me, I swear you will be rewarded.”

The Woman in Black laughed mockingly. “And what is that worth? The promise of a man? You’re very funny,  _Highness_.”

The prince barely contained a growl. For a moment, he longed for his dagger.

“Really Narrator? I could easily defeat her unarmed. In fact, why haven’t I already done that? And why didn’t I untie my ropes and use them to strangle Drake when I was still with him?”

Because that would ruin the story, Master Damian. Now stop breaking the fourth wall. If you do that too much you might wake up before the story ends. And you don’t really want that, do you?

Damian grudgingly agreed with the Narrator’s point.

“I was giving you a chance, you know,” the prince sneered. “It doesn’t matter where you take me, there’s no more determined hunter than Ra’s al Ghul. He could track a falcon on a cloudy day, and he could definitely find you.”

“Do you think your beloved grandfather will save you?”

“I never said he was my beloved  _anything_. And yes, he will save me. That I know”

The masked woman walked closer to her captive. “You admit that you don’t care about your new family?”

“They know I do not love them.”

The woman scoffed. “Are not  _capable_  of love, is what you mean.”

Damian stood and snarled at his jailer. “I have loved more deeply than a murderer like you could ever  _dream_.”

The Woman in Black barely stopped her fist before it reached the prince’s jaw. Damian nearly flinched in anticipation of the blow. Reigning herself in, the masked woman spoke with barely veiled anger. “That was a warning,  _Highness._  The next time my hand flies on it’s own; from where I come from there are penalties when a man lies.”

Something about the woman’s tone seemed familiar to Damian, and he was too busy contemplating it to resist when she began dragging him down the hill.

—

Tim Drake was deep in a coma by the time Ra’s an his men arrived. The cunning regent carefully inspected the empty phial by the wine before checking the younger man’s vital signs. Seeing that the man still lived, but made no signs of waking, Ra’s announced his deduction.

“Black Mercy, I’d bet my life on it.”

He walked around the comatose mercenary. “And there are the prince’s footprints. He is alive, or was an hour ago.” Ra’s pursed his lips in thought. “If he is otherwise when I find him, I shall be very put out.”

—

“Rest, Highness.”

Damian barely recovered from the shove in time to prevent himself from tripping over a small boulder. This was good, as otherwise he might have tumbled down the steep ravine it was perched atop of.

“Quit the crap, Narrator. I know who she is, so why are we going through this whole routine?”

Are you certain about that?

“I saw the movie, didn’t I? Brown made me watch it.”

Yes, but can you recall any details right now?

“Of course I ca-” Damian trailed off in realization. He  _couldn’t_ remember who he initially believed the Woman in Black to be. In fact, he only remembered the events of the film as they happened in his dream. “Goddammit, are you serious?! I can’t even have control in my own dreams anymore?”

Well, if you knew what would happen in your dream before it occurred, it would be rather boring. If you’re always aware of the future, it would be harder for your subconscious to act out what it wants to, Master Damian.

“Fine. Whatever. Let’s just get on with this.”

Very good, Master Damian.

The prince decided it was high time to confront his current captor. “I know who you are. Your cruelty reveals everything. Your the dreaded pirate, Batman, admit it!”

The Woman in Black curtseyed mockingly. “With pride! Although, now that you’ve figured it out, you can call me 'Batgirl’. 'Batman’ is just used for publicity purposes; very few people would take a masked  _female_  pirate seriously. It’s sexist, I tell you. Now, what can I do for you?”

Damian seethed. “You can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces. Then brought back so that I can kill you all over again.”

Batgirl tisked at him. “You’re hardly complimentary, your highness. Why loose your venom on me?”

The prince paused before replying in a low voice, “You killed my love.”

The pirate hummed in an offhanded, thoughtful manner. “It’s possible; I kill a lot of people.” She circled the prince deliberately. “Who was this love of yours? Some princess, picked by your grandfather? Ugly, rich, and self-centered?”

Damian turned to glare at Batgirl’s masked face. “No. A farmgirl. Poor and selfless.” The prince continued in a softer voice, as though speaking to just himself. “Poor and perfect.”

The sudden stiffening of Batgirl’s form drew Damian’s attention back to her. “On the high seas your ship attacked. Everyone knows that the 'Batman’ takes no prisoners.”

Batgirl shrugged. “I can’t afford to make exceptions. I mean, once word leaks out that a pirate has gone soft people begin to disobey you. And then it’s nothing but work, work, work all the time.”

Damian growled. “You mock my pain.”

“Life  _is_  pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”

When the prince turned away, Batgirl began circling him again. “I remember this farmgirl of yours, I think. This would be, what, five years ago?” Damian’s lack of response was answer enough. “Does it bother you to hear?”

“Nothing you can say will upset me.”

“She died well, if that’s any consolation. No begging, or weeping. She simply said 'Please. Please, I need to live.'” Batgirl stared into the distance as she spoke, before turning back to Damian. “It was the 'please’ that caught my memory. I asked her what was so important for her here. 'True love,’ she replied.” The masked woman stalked closer to the prince, “And then she spoke of a man of unsurpassed honor and faithfulness. I can only assume she meant you. You should bless me for destroying her before she found out what you really are.”

Damian, who had been lost in renewed grief up until this point, stood and snapped at the pirate. “And what am I?”

“Honor and faithfulness, Highness. Your enduring  _integrity_. Tell me, did you sell yourself out to the Al Ghul’s that same hour, or did you wait a whole week out of respect for the dead?”

“You mocked me once, never do it again! I  _died_  that day.”

The sound of hoof steps thundering along a nearby ridge distracted Batgirl momentarily. Damian took the opportunity to crowded into the Batgirl’s personal space and hiss at her, “You can die too for all I care.” With that, he pushed the Woman in Black down the ravine.

Before Damian could feel any satisfaction over his actions, he heard Batgirl call up to him as she tumbled down the slope. “As you wish!”

Damian was momentarily stunned, before he was consumed with horror at his sudden realization. “Stephanie. What have I done?”

Seeing no real alternative, Damian dove after her.

The trip down the ravine was not fun for either person. In fact, they were both extremely luck that they didn’t break their necks. On the positive side, the ravine momentarily shielded them from the view of Ra’s al Ghul’s approaching guards, and was far too steep to ride the horses down besides.

After taking a minute to regain her bearings, Stephanie (and it was indeed Stephanie; she had lost her mask on the way down the hill, and her face was plain to see) crawled over to where Damian was sprawled on the ravine floor. She briefly checked his body for any obvious injuries. “Can you move at all?”

Still dazed, Damian reached up and caressed Stephanie’s cheek. He was half-convinced she would disappear once he touched her. “Move? You’re alive, if you wanted it, I could fly.”

Stephanie smiled and leaned into his touch momentarily before questioning him further. “I told you I would return. Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Well, you were dead.”

Stephanie gave him a look that seemed to say Damian should have known better. “Did you really think something as silly as death would keep me from coming back? Especially knowing our crowd?”

The prince grumbled in reluctant acknowledgement.

“Really, Damian, death couldn’t stop me from getting to the people I love. All it could do is delay me for a little while.”

Damian rolled his eyes sarcastically before replying with unexpected sincerity, “I will never doubt again.”

“There will never be a need.” With that, Stephanie swooped down and kissed him.

Now, dear readers, (“ _What_ readers?!”) it is perhaps best that we give the couple some privacy. Not only is it polite, but it spares Master Damian the effort of taxing his barely-pubescent brain by thinking exhaustively about romantic encounters with which he has no personal experience.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie and Damian make their way through the fearsome ~~Exposition~~ Apokolips Swamp! How will they handle the horrors within?

Part 4

 

“Narrator, I don’t see why we skipped over that section.”

Because, Master Damian, despite how much you have aged yourself up within the confines of this dream in order to make a relationship with Miss Stephanie plausible, you are still ten years old in reality.

“So?”

If we were to include anything more than kissing, it would be child pornography. Even the kissing is borderline.

“It’s  _my_ dream. All of this is taking place in  _my_  ten-year-old mind; how would it count? Besides, nobody would know.”

Don’t be so sure about that, Master Damian. Now, shouldn’t you be paying more attention to your ‘ladylove’ or your dangerous surroundings?

“Fine. But don’t think I’ll forget this conversation.”

I wouldn’t  _dream_  of it, sir.

The reunited lovers raced along the ravine floor, knowing full well that should the regent catch up they would be separated once more. Damian risked a glance behind him, only to catch sight of his grandfather and a full company of guards at the top of the ridge. The prince was certain that the old man would send his peons after them on foot, if necessary. He wondered how short his reunion with Stephanie would be.

The Batgirl noticed what caught her companion’s attention and let out a short, but triumphant laugh. “Hah! Your asshole grandpa is too late; a few more steps and we’ll be safe in the Apokolips Swamp.”

Damian whipped his head around so quickly upon hearing that pronouncement that nearly got whiplash. Sure enough, the ominous treeline of the Apokolips Swamp was dead ahead. Stephanie had spoken with a cavalier tone that would have fooled anyone else, but Damian wasn’t buying it.

“We’ll never survive.”

“Nonsense! You’re only saying that because no one ever has.” Steph spoke with such determination and cheer that Damian almost believed her. At the very least, Ra’s was unlikely to follow them into this particular hell hole

—–

The Apokolips Swamp was a dark and dreary place. It was filled with gnarled trees whose branches were so intertwined that very little light made it through the canopy. Tree limbs were so liberally covered with vines and spanish moss that it was hard to distinguish the original plant from it’s covering. Forget about identifying potentially dangerous animals hiding within. The ground had a odd spongy quality, and in places sucked at travelers’ boots as if trying to pull them into the earth. Any visible stones and boulders were so covered with moss and lichen they appeared to be some strange new plant, rather than a rock. In the oddly still air one could hear distant animal calls and a peculiar popping noise that came at varying intervals. The sickly sweet scent of decaying vegetation battled with the faint odor of rotting meat, making an already dreary place absolutely forbidding.

Stephanie was using her sword to hack away at the underbrush while Damian watched for signs of pursuit from his grandfather’s men, however unlikely that may be. “You know,” Steph began conversationally, “It’s really not all that bad in here.”

The incredulous look Damian shot her caused the Batgirl to backpedal some. “Well, I’m not saying that I’d want to build a summer home here, but the trees are actually quite lovely.”

Before Damian could find a proper response to such a pronouncement, they were distracted by the sound of something popping nearby. More accurately, they were distracted by the jet of flame that appeared right next to Stephanie’s leg immediately thereafter. The material of Steph’s pants caught fire. Damian removed his waistcoat and moved to smother the flames before the phrase “stop, drop, and roll” could pass through his companion’s head.

The prince couldn’t help the sardonic smirk that crossed his lips as he regained his feet. “Not that bad, huh?”

—–

“What I don’t understand is how  _you_  are the dreaded pirate 'Batman’, when Batman has been marauding since I was a child.” Two hours later, they were still making their way through the Apokolips Swamp. At least now, they were deftly avoiding any flame spurts.

“I myself am often astounded by the twists and turns of life.” Sensing Damian’s irritation at her non-answer, Stephanie continued. “The part I told you about the 'please’ was true. It caught Batman’s attention, who was, I might add, actually a woman. She said 'I’ve never had a servant before, but I will give you a chance. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.’ For three  _years_  she said that; 'Good night Stephanie, sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.'”

The former farmgirl was interrupted by the now familiar popping noise, and both travelers dodged away from the swamp fire.

“It was an interesting time for me; I was seeing the world, learning about international politics, and Batman was teaching me how to fight. I wish you could see her fight, Damian,” Stephanie’s tone turned almost wistful as she continued. “She was amazing, it was like she could tell what someone would do before  _they_  did.”

Damian had to admit that this sounded impressive, “But how did you end up as 'Batman’?”

“Well, after a few years aboard the ship, Batman pulled me aside to speak with me privately. 'I am not the dreaded pirate “Batman”,’ she said. 'My name is Cassandra. The 'Batman’ before me was not the original 'Batman’ either, her name was Helena.’ The first Batman has been retired for years, and living like a king in Patagonia. Or at least, that’s what Cass was told.

“Now Cass wanted to retire, and she was handing the mantle over to me. We went to port, got a new crew, and Cass stayed on for a while as first mate, all the while calling me 'Batman’. You see, it’s the name that’s important, and the fact that we carried out the original Batman’s work. Let face it, no one would ever surrender to 'The Dread Pirate Stephanie’.”

Damian cracked a smile are that last mental image, though something still bothered him. “I have a hard time imagining you killing ships filled with innocent people.”

“Funny story about that, I never actually killed anyone as 'Batman’. It’s one of the rules.”

“There are rules to piracy, and they involve  _not_ killing people?”

“There are rules to being 'Batman’. First off, we never actually kill anyone, we just make it look like we did. We deliver the innocent to a safe harbor, and deliver the guilty to justice.”

“What do you mean by 'the guilty’?”

“That’s the second thing. We only ever went after ships that we believed were doing R'as al Ghul’s dirty work. The original Batman had a grudge.”

“I will admit that my grandfather is hardly pleasant, but I don’t see why you would help carry out someone else’s vendetta.”

“Damian, your sheltered little ass might not remember the chaos caused by your grandpa’s coup d'etat, but I do. I lost my parents.”

The prince couldn’t think of a rebuttal to that. “And then I turned out to  _be_  an al Ghul. That must have been a shock when you found out.”

“You have no idea.”

On impulse, Damian grabbed Stephanie’s arm and pulled her to a stop. “I don’t have to be an al Ghul.”

The pirate smiled warmly, “I don’t have to be Batman.”

The prince smiled in return before releasing Stephanie and walking forward. Right into a pit of lightning sand.

An uneducated person might believe that lightning sand was no different from quicksand, but they would be wrong. Lightning sand is much more dangerous than quicksand. If one were so unfortunate as to stumble into some lightning sand, they would scarcely have time to breathe before being sucked below the surface. Lightning sand is so incredibly fine that it feels soft to touch initially. That softness goes away once the superfine grains begin to get into everything.

Damian could feel the sand getting beneath his clenched eyelids, and past his tightly sealed lips. He could swear that he felt grains of sand forcing their way through his sinuses after they had filled his nose. Pressure built in the prince’s lungs, and Damian wondered if he would pass out before he inevitably filled his lungs with the powdery sand. At least he would be dead before the pit ground the flesh from his bones.

Just as Damian was resigning himself to his fate, he felt a hand grasp his arm. He had no clue how long he had actually been in the pit, but when his head broke the surface, it felt like he was seeing daylight for the first time in years. Near-death experiences can have that effect.

When he’d cleared enough sand out of his eyes to see, Damian examined his current predicament. Stephanie was pulling them to the edge of the lightning sand with the help of one of the many vines attached to a nearby tree. When they reached solid ground, both collapsed as they fought to expel any traces of sand from their lungs and regain their breath.

It took Damian a few moments to regain his ability to speak. “I’m starting to doubt our chances of survival.”

Stephanie huffed out a slight laugh as she pulled herself to her feet. Damian followed suit. “I think you’re overreacting. We’ve already proven that we can do this. What are the three dangers of the Apokolips Swamp? One, the flame spurts. No problem. That popping sound gives us plenty of warning to get out of the way.”

As if to illustrate her point, the ground in front of them began making the very sound Steph had just described. Once the flames had sputtered out, the two lovers began making their way through the swamp once more.

“Two, lightning sand. You were clever enough to discover what that looks like, so we can avoid it in the future.”

“What about the O.M.A.C.s?”

Stephanie grinned with all of the bravado she could muster. “I don’t think those actually exist.”

Sometime later, the couple would appreciate the irony of Steph’s timing, but first they would have to defeat the monstrosity that tackled her to the ground just after she finished speaking.

O.M.A.C.s look like the steroid infused lovechild of a gigantic man and a brightly colored suit of armor. They are surprisingly intelligent and dangerous foes. Exhausted as she was, there was no chance of Stephanie defeating the creature on her own. Luckily, she didn’t have to. While the buccaneer fought to free herself from where the O.M.A.C. was pinning her, Damian began raining blows on the creature’s thick hide, searching for a weak spot. It occurred to both of them at the same time that this whole situation would have been dealt with much quicker if Stephanie had remembered to return Damian’s dagger to him once he knew her identity. As it was, their combined efforts gave the former farmgirl the opportunity to pull out her own knife and stab it through the creature’s eye.

The O.M.A.C. gave an inhuman shriek and began to thrash wildly. Stephanie scrambled out of reach of the beast’s death throes. The now familiar popping sound began to fill the tiny clearing where the couple had been ambushed. Identifying it’s source, Damian swiftly kicked the dying O.M.A.C. onto the fire spurt just in time for the monster to be engulfed in flames. The smell of burning flesh caused the couple to gag. When the conflagration died down, Damian made his way to the charred corpse and retrieved Stephanie’s knife.

“I think I’ll keep this one.” Stephanie made no move to argue.

—–

Gradually, the trees began to thin out, and the slightest hint of salty ocean air could be scented on the breeze. For what felt like the first time in ages, Damian felt a thrill of freedom. “We made it.”

Stephanie grinned in spite of her exhaustion. “Just a few miles from here, there should be a harbor. That’s where my ship is waiting for us. What do you say to a few months of marauding the seas before buying our own private island?”

Before the prince could respond, the couple was interrupted by the thundering sound of hooves. In mere moments they were faced with a squad of soldiers and R'as al Ghul himself. The regent glared down at the ragged couple, looking fearsome and imperious from his perch atop a large white destrier.

“Surrender!”

“You mean you wish to surrender to me?” Stephanie curtseyed mockingly, “Very well, I accept.”

“I give you full marks for bravery, girl, but don’t make yourself a fool.”

The Batgirl flashed a smile filled with bravado. “Ah, but how would you capture us? We know the secrets of the Apokolips Swamp, and could live there quite happily for some time.” Damian barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes over such blatant falsehoods. “So whenever you feel like dying, feel free to visit.”

“I tell you once again, surrender!”

“It will not happen.”

While Stephanie was busy goading Damian’s grandfather, the prince was analyzing their likely chances of escape and survival. It wasn’t looking good; they were surrounded, and Damian counted at least three crossbow wielding snipers with their weapons trained on Steph. Had they been uninjured and well rested, the prince had no doubt of their ability to escape, but they were hardly facing such positive odds now. When the argument became more heated, Damian saw one of the guards prepare to fire. In a moment of panic, Damian blurted the first thing that came to his mind in order to keep the situation from deteriorating further.

“Will you promise not to hurt her?”

The two adversaries spun to face Damian almost simultaneously. “What was that?”

“If we surrender, and I return with you, will you promise not to hurt this woman?”

R'as lifted his chin proudly, and spoke with no small amount of bluster. “May I live a thousand years, and never hunt again.”

Damian hardly trusted the regent’s promises, but he could see no real alternatives at the moment. He trained his sight on the older man’s face, searching for any hint of outright deceit. “She is a sailor on the merchant ship 'Dauntless’ who came to my aid. Promise to return her to her ship unharmed.”

“I swear it will be done.”

Damian almost couldn’t bring himself to face Stephanie, knowing the betrayal he would see in her expression. Feeling that he owed her an explanation, the prince turned so that he could look her straight in the eyes. “I thought you were dead once, and it almost destroyed me. I could not bear it if you died again, not when I could save you.”

The lovers were so wrapped up in their conversation that they did not notice R'as al Ghul having his own conversation with his cloaked advisor. “Once we’re out of sight, take her back to Gotham and throw her in the Pit of Despair.”

The advisor gave his lord an exceptionally gruesome smile in return. “I swear it will be done.”

With that confirmation, the regent nodded and motioned for one of the guards to grab his grandson and foist him onto one of the horses. Stephanie remained motionless, staring after the departing horses until they vanished from sight. The cloaked advisor pulled his mount up beside the woman.

“Come, my lady, we must get you to your ship.”

The Batgirl calmly gazed up at the advisors hooded face. “We are people of action, such lies do not become us.”

The man uttered a harsh laugh, his face twisted into an even more grotesque facade. “Well spoken.” The ragged woman continued to stare in an unnerving fashion. “What is it, girl?”

The slightest of smiles stole it’s way across the blond woman’s face. “You have such distinctive scars. Someone was looking for you.”

Momentarily overwhelmed with rage, the Joker harshly struck the pirate, knocking her unconscious.   


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

 

Stephanie couldn’t be certain what worried her the most when she regained consciousness. There was the lingering pain from the many injuries she’d sustained in the Apokolips Swamp, the fact that Damian was nowhere in sight, the fact she was tied to some sort of cot, or the macabre painted face looming over her. The ghastly person was tending to Steph’s wounds.

“Where am I?”

The painted person spoke in a harsh whisper, “The Pit of Despai-” They broke off in a coughing fit, and when they resumed speaking they did so in a smooth, if oddly accented, female voice. “The Pit of Despair. Don’t even think about trying to escape; the chains are far too thick. And I know they’re secure, I did it myself. And don’t even dream of being rescued, the way in is secret. Only the Regent, the Joker, and I know how to get in or out.”

Steph scowled in distaste, “Then I’m here till I die?”

“Well, 'til they kill you, yeah.”

“Then why bother curing me?”

The painted woman shrugged, “The Regent and my Puddin’ always insist on everyone being healthy before they’re broken.”

Stephanie set her jaw, “So it’s to be torture.”

The ghastly harlequin nodded happily.

Steph adopted a grim expression. “I can cope with torture.”

The attendant giggled and shook her head.

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“You survived the Apokolips Swamp, so you must be very brave, but nobody withstands The Machine.” The painted woman beamed at Stephanie and gestured dramatically at a huge wood and metal contraption that took up most of the space to Stephanie’s left.

Steph wasn’t sure what The Machine did, exactly, but she felt a sliver of fear just looking at it.

—

Damian had been depressed ever since he left Stephanie outside of the swamp. He knew that his actions had been the only way to keep her safe at the time, but it still felt wrong somehow.

“Of course it’s wrong, you moronic narrator. Thanks to me, Stephanie is now tied up in a dungeon, about to be tortured. By the  _Joker_.”

You don’t know that, Master Damian.

“Yes, I do! We just had a whole scene showing what her situation is.”

Would you please stay in character?

“Fine. At least it’s not Black Mask. I’m warning you, if this gets gory or fetishized in any way, I will wake up immediately and enroll in intensive therapy.”

Who do you take me for, Dan Didio?

“Who?”

Just get back to the story.

Since returning to the palace, Damian had put a great deal of effort into avoiding his grandfather. On that front, he was successful. His mother was much more difficult to avoid. Lady Talia was a ruthlessly efficient woman who commanded both fear and respect from those around her. She managed the day-to-day operations in Gotham, and didn’t let the fact that she had no “legitimate” source for her power stand in her way. No one dared imply that Damian was an unfit heir to the kingdom simply because Talia had never married his father (well, not after what happened to the first person to say anything like that). While Damian loathed and distrusted his grandfather, he was in awe of his mother.

Damian had been skulking around the armory when his mother found him. Lady Talia was resplendent in a green silk gown and jewelry that was worth more than the farm Damian grew up on, as well as its neighbors. In spite of this, she fit in perfectly with the displays of weapons that filled the room.

“My darling, I’ve been looking for you for hours. We have much to discuss.”

Damian knew that his mother could have easily sent a servant to fetch him, so whatever Talia wished to discuss, it was something she didn’t want to be overheard. “And now you have found me, mother.”

“I understand that you haven’t been sleeping well.”

“You have no idea.”

Talia continued as though she hadn’t heard her son’s aside. “You’ve been moping around the castle as well. Such behavior is unbecoming of a man in your position. Regardless of recent events, you must maintain appearances.”

“I hardly think that I’ve been behaving oddly for someone who was recently abducted.”

“Don’t you? I’ve been watching you, and I am certain that I know who your mind is with. My darling, your birthday is in two weeks, as is your coronation. You cannot allow your concern for the fate of a criminal to distract you from your duty to the kingdom.”

Damian would not be surprised if his mother knew every detail of his kidnapping, even those moments that had no witnesses. She seemed to have eyes everywhere and know everything. “Why do you think it necessary for my to assume the throne so quickly, mother? The people hardly know who I am.”

“The people already love you, my son. You are the only scion of Gotham’s most beloved dynasty, and your reign will bring stability to the kingdom that you grandfather alone could never accomplish. When your father fled Gotham, after his ward died and I was forced to hide you away, the people questioned the legitimacy of the al Ghul regency. With you on the throne, there will be no such worries. Do not forsake us for some peasant, my son.”

Being compared to the man who had shamelessly abandoned his duty stung the prince. “I would never desert Gotham.”

“I am glad, my darling. Do not allow your grandfather to control your kingdom for much longer, lest he drive it to ruin.”

On that cryptic note, Talia left her son to mull over their conversation.

—

The Pit of Despair was hidden outside of the castle walls. It was underground with its entrance was disguised by the forest, only discernible by the copse of unique looking trees that marked its presence. Every tree in this particular grove had wide trunks covered in knots. The door to the Pit of Despair was seamlessly hidden in one of these monstrosities, though only three people in Gotham knew which one.

Presently, two of those people were strolling through the woods on their way to check up on the Pit’s current “guest”. Ra’s al Ghul and the Joker rarely discussed any of their business, especially the sordid type, within the castle walls. Walks like this one were the only time they were even remotely frank with one another.

“I must say, Ghouly, your little prince is really something. A bit of a brat, but he looks so much like daddy-dearest that the appeal is obvious.”

Ra’s al Ghul narrowed his eyes at his companion, but otherwise ignored his newest degrading nickname. “Yes, the people are quite taken with him. You know, when I hired Tim Drake to have him murdered and blame it on Bludhaven, I thought that was clever. But my position will be so much more secure when I take over his body and assume the throne on the day of his coronation.”

The Joker let loose one of his disconcerting, high-pitched laughs at this pronouncement. “And to think, if you had just done this with Brucie, you wouldn’t have had to worry about any of this succession mess!”

“We hardly knew about any of this back then, and Bruce would never have been a proper candidate for this procedure.”

“Yeah, it would have been a little bit awkward having your own daughter proposition you all of the time!” The Joker laughed so hard at his own joke that he hardly noticed the poisonous glare the regent sent in his direction. “Now, where is that knot? It’s always so hard to find.”

The Joker groped various spots on one of the largest trees in the grove. After a few moments of fumbling, a door disguised within the tree swung open with a creak. The advisor turned his ghastly smile towards his employer. “Are you coming down into the Pit? Stephanie has her strength back, and I’m starting her on The Machine today.”

Ra’s barely restrained a grimace at this. “You know how much I love watching you work,” this was said with a tone dryer than the Atacama Desert, “But I’ve got a got a coronation to arrange, an arcane ritual to prepare, and my grandson’s body to steal. I’m swamped.”

The Joker pat the regent’s arm in mock sympathy. “Get some rest - if you haven’t got your health, you haven’t got anything.”

The Joker had begun to descend into the pit when Ra’s voice brought him up short. “Make certain that you show restraint with the pirate. She might yet be useful. If we have a repeat of what happened with Wayne’s peasant ward, I will destroy you myself.”

It was impossible for even the Joker to laugh off the cold promise in his master’s tone.

—

Down in the Pit, Stephanie, still strapped to the gurney she woke up on, was being rolled closer to The Machine. Harley seemed absolutely perky at the prospect of the mammoth contraption being used on her charge. Steph did her best to remain stoic in the face of her inevitable suffering. Harley had just begun attaching various suction cups to different points on Stephanie’s body when the Joker reached the foot of the stairs.

“Oh good, you’re ready. We’re going to try something a little bit different today. You see, I’ve spent the last several years developing new techniques for torture, and my Machine is the pinnacle of my research. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Steph couldn’t recall anything more ghastly, at the moment. Well, perhaps the Joker’s smile was worse. Harley began attaching suction cups to various points on Stephanie’s body while the Joker continued his monologue.

“I’m sure that by now you’ve discovered my deep and abiding interest in pain. Right now, I’m writing the definitive book on the subject. All of those other half-baked villains will be so very jealous when they see it. Now, I want you to be totally honest with me on how the Machine makes you feel. Alright lady-bat?” The Joker concluded with a condescending little pat to Stephanie’s cheek. If Harley hadn’t already gagged her, the ex-pirate would have spat at her captors.

The Joker walked over to a dial on the machine, with numbers ranging from 1 to 50 painted on it. He made certain that his audience was paying attention before continuing. “Since this is our first try, I’ll use the lowest setting.”

Once the dial was turned, the Machine sprung to life. Stephanie couldn’t see all of the details from her place on the gurney, but she heard the sounds of water rushing down a chute, and a multitude of gears turning. Then the pain hit.

In her career as a pirate, Stephanie had dealt with many painful injuries, but none compared to this. She couldn’t even specify  _what_  hurt, simply that everything did. It wasn’t even the general soreness of overworked muscles, but rather like she was being stabbed by thousands of needles at once, in every part of her body. She swore that even the marrow in her bones hurt at that moment.

This could have gone on for a minute, or an hour, all Stephanie knew was how relieved she was that it finally stopped. When she became aware of her surroundings once more, the Joker was perched by her side, a pen in his hand and a notebook set on his lap. He seemed to be attempting to smile like a kindly doctor at his patient’s bedside, but the effect was terrifying.

“As you know, the concept of the suction cup is centuries old. Well, that’s really all this is. Except instead of sucking water, I’m sucking life.” Steph wasn’t sure exactly how that worked, but given what she had just endured, she didn’t doubt his claim.

“I’ve just sucked one year of your life away. I might one day go as high as five, but I really don’t know what that would do to you.” The Joker’s words may have implied doubt, but his expression indicated utter glee at that prospect. “So, let’s just starts with what we have. What did this do to you? Tell me. And remember, this is for posterity, so be honest. How do you feel?”

Stephanie tried to muster insults to spew at him from behind her gag, but instead found herself crying in pain.

The Joker hummed to himself and began to take notes. “Interesting.”

—

Ra’s al Ghul was incredibly paranoid, as would be expected of someone who had plotted and murdered in order to seize power. The appearance of Stephanie Brown using the guise of “Batman” had him on edge. The Batman had been interfering with the regent’s operations for years, and was a viable threat to his current objectives. While he doubted that Brown was the true Batman, he was certain that her allies, possibly even the original Batman, would attempt to rescue her. Doubtless they would then take the opportunity to thwart Ra’s plans for his grandson.

If Brown’s allies chose anywhere to infiltrate Gotham, it would be Crime Alley. Ra’s needed to secure the capitol. To that end, he summoned the head of security, Slade Wilson.

“Wilson.”

“Sire”

“As Chief Enforcer of all Gotham, I trust you with this secret: killers from Bludhaven are infiltrating Crime Alley and plan to murder members of the royal family on the day of Prince Damian’s coronation.”

Wilson seemed dubious of such news. “My spy network has heard no such news.”

“As well they wouldn’t. The Joker has only obtained it by _questioning_ one of our prisoners.” Ra’s didn’t dare say anything more specific, even if it was false, in case this conversation reached either Talia or Damian.

“I refuse to see my only grandchild murdered. Before the coronation, I want Crime Alley emptied and every inhabitant arrested.”

Wilson nodded. “Many of the criminals will resist. My regular enforcers will be inadequate.”

Ra’s made a show of being irritated at the implied request. “Form a Brute Squad then. I want crime alley emptied before the coronation.”

“It wont be easy, sire.”

“Try running the world sometime.”

—

It was only a few days before Prince Damian’s birthday, and Slade Wilson’s Brute Squad was finishing it’s campaign to clear Crime Alley. Wilson surveyed the progress from his place atop a chestnut stallion. When the latest wagon was filled, he turned to one of his many subordinates.

“Is everyone out?”

“Almost. Some punk is giving us some trouble.”

“Well, you give him  _more_  trouble.” With that, Wilson and the prison wagon began making their way towards the prison.

—

Jason Todd was in terrible shape. Since his defeat at the hands of the Woman in Black, Jason had been unable to find his comrades. In despair, he returned to one of the only homes he could clearly remember; a hovel in Crime Alley. Since his arrival, Jason was determined not to spend one moment sober if he didn’t have to. Slade Wilson’s Brute Squad didn’t care about any of this, and continued to bother him. After sending many of them on their way to a medic, Jason was now lounging by his door, ranting at people who weren’t present.

“You told me to go back to the beginning, Drake. Well here I am, at  _my_  beginning. This is where I came from, this is where I’ll stay. I will not be moved.”

Jason’s ranting alerted the Brute Squad to his current position, and one of them found the swordsman quickly. “Ho there.”

Jason glared up at the guard blearily. “I won’t budge. You keep your ‘ho there.’”

“The Regent gave orders-”

“So did Drake. He said that if a job went wrong, we were to go back to the beginning. Well this is my beginning, so this is where I’ll stay.”

The guard quickly realized that he couldn’t handle the situation alone, so he summoned some back up. Jason was less than happy with this move, and staggered to his feet.

“I - am - waiting -for - Drake.”

“Wouldn’t you rather spend time with a robin than a duck?”

Such a ridiculous pun coming from a familiar voice stopped Jason in his tracks. Grayson was here. When the familiar face of Jason’s long-time partner appeared before him, the swordsman couldn’t bring himself to care about the hows or whys. He grinned blearily at the acrobat, and promptly passed out.

—

When Jason came to, he was in a sparsely furnished room somewhere in Crime Alley. He could tell that he hadn’t left the Alley by the smell coming through the open window. The stench of hundreds of destitute people living in close proximity for generations did nothing to ease Jason’s hangover. In fact, it triggered a sudden wave of nausea. Just as he was about to vomit all over the bed he currently inhabited, a bucket was placed in front of him.

“Why does it not surprise me that you were sitting around, getting wasted in Crime Alley?” Dick Grayson was far too cheerful for such a horrible day. Couldn’t he see that Jason was in a state of acute misery?

Once he finished purging the alcohol based contents of his stomach, the swordsman sniped back at his comrade. “Why does it not surprise me that you would pull your golden boy routine and come find me?”

Somehow, that sounded snider in Jason’s head.

“Once I knew you were alive, I had to find you.” Dick’s already luminous smile grew brighter. “I found out what happened to The Woman in Black, and I knew you’d be interested in what I discovered.”

“Why would I care about what happened to the lady who kicked our asses? I only care about getting revenge on one person, and it isn’t her.”

“It’s not The Woman in Black that I think would interest you, but the person who has her.”

“She got caught by the Demon Head, so what?” Jason wasn’t feeling up to playing any of Dick’s games at the moment.

“Ra’s may have caught her and pardoned her officially, but according to what I’ve found out, she’s secretly being held by his advisor, the Joker.”

“That sucks for her. I don’t think anyone but Ra’s gets one-on-one with him and survives.”

“True, but palace guards see his face and live to see another day, every day. And they enjoy drinking at local taverns, and love complaining about their jobs.”

“Again, why do I care?”

“Because the Joker has two scars running from the sides of his mouth, and a very distinctive laugh.”

Jason was instantly on his feet. “Where is this 'Joker’ so that I may kill him?”

Dick had deftly caught the vomit filled bucket before Jason could upend it all over the bed. He watched with amusement as his hungover friend staggered around the room in search of his possessions. “He’s with the Regent in the castle. And the castle gate is guarded by thirty men.”

“How many could you handle?”

Dick took a moment to consider the question. “I don’t think I could take more than ten.”

Jason huffed as he did a few mental calculations. “That leaves twenty for me, and I don’t think I could handle that many even if I was at my best.” The swordsman sank back onto the bed. “Dammit, I never thought I’d want to have Drake around. He’s much better at this strategy thing than I am.”

Dick gave a nod of agreement. “But we don’t know what happened to Tim.”

The two mercenaries sat in dejected silence for a moment. Suddenly, Jason was struck by inspiration. “Wait! We don’t need Drake. We need the Woman in Black!”

Dick stared at him blankly for a moment. “What?”

“Think about it, she beat all three of us, even Tim. Obviously she could handle breaking into the castle. We definitely could do it if we work together. We’ve got to go-”

“Where, exactly?”

“To find the Woman in Black, Dickie-bird.”

“That’s a great idea,  _Jay-bird_ , but we have no clue where she is. Remember, she’s being held in a secret location by the Joker?”

Jason ignored Dick’s reasonable arguments as he stormed around his room. “Don’t bother me with trifles. After all this time, my father’s soul will finally be at peace.” A savage grin spread across the swordsman’s face as he threw the door open. “There will be blood tonight!”

Dick just sighed and followed his friend. Hopefully he’d be able to keep him from doing something too foolish.

—

Damian was sick and tired of waiting around the palace.

“You’re damn right I am.”

Then that should help you stay in character.

Damian was sick and tired of waiting around the palace. He was sick and tired of being lied to and manipulated. He was done with waiting around uselessly while God only knows what was happening to Stephanie.

Damian was still young, and inclined to brash, hotheaded maneuvers. This was the only excuse he could come up with for storming into his grandfather’s study while he was in the middle of a meeting with Slade Wilson.

“You’re keeping her prisoner, aren’t you?”

The captain of the guards took in the tense standoff taking place between the prince and the regent, and quickly excused himself from the room. Ra’s cooly observed his grandson, but didn’t speak. Damian fumed as he continued to rail at the older man. “You never intended to release her. Don’t bother lying.”

“You are a foolish child.”

“You’re right, I am a foolish child - for not seeing sooner that you are nothing but a coward with a heart full of fear. How could the most powerful man in the kingdom be afraid of a peasant girl?”

Ra’s stood up behind his desk. When he spoke, his tone was cold and clipped. “I would not say such things if I were you.”

“Why not? You can’t hurt me, it would damage your position. Stephanie and I are joined by bonds of love, which I seriously doubt you can even comprehend. And when I say that you are a coward, it’s only because you are the slimiest weakling to ever crawl the earth.”

Furious, Ra’s stalked over to his grandson, and took hold of his arm in a vice-like grip. He yanked the boy behind him while he marched down the corridor. “I WOULD NOT SAY SUCH THINGS IF I WERE YOU!”

They came to a door, which Ra’s threw open. He shoved Damian into the room, which was windowless and sparsely furnished. The regent slammed the door and bolted it shut. Once his grandson was securely locked away, Ra’s decided a trip to the Pit of Despair was in order.

—

Stephanie was enjoying a pain free moment while the Joker wrote up his observations of her most recent session with the Machine. She was still completely hooked up to it, but at least she had a moment to recover. A stomping noise drew her attention to the stairs, where Ra’s al Ghul made his way into her line of vision. He looked furious; red faced and practically frothing at the mouth.

“You truly love each other, and so you might have been truly happy. Not one couple in a century has that chance, no matter what the storybooks say. And so I think no woman in a century will suffer as greatly as you will.”

Stephanie didn’t understand what set the regent off like this. She was a little more preoccupied with the fact that after ranting at her, Ra’s whirled towards the control dial for the Machine. The Joker saw this too, and tried to intervene. “Not to fifty!”

Stephanie saw Ra’s slam the dial to it’s highest setting, and then her world dissolved into agony.

—

An inhuman scream could be heard all across central Gotham. Slade Wilson and the castle guards, their forces doubled on the regent’s orders, were unnerved by the sound. They didn’t know where it came from, which made it worse.

In his locked room, Damian paused in beating his hands bloody against the door. It only took a moment before cold dread wormed its way through him. Somehow, the prince was certain, that scream had to do with Stephanie. He redoubled his efforts to break down the door.

Jason and Dick were wandering through a crowded marketplace when they heard it. The throng of people all stopped what they were doing, and glanced around in fear. Jason understood the source of the scream almost instantly, and grabbed Dick’s arm to get his attention.

“Grayson, that noise we’re hearing - it’s the sound of ultimate suffering. My heart made that sound when the Joker slaughtered my father. The Woman in Black makes it now.”

Dick frowned at his companion for a moment. “Why would the Woman in Black be screaming like that?”

“Besides that fact that she’s in the Joker’s custody? She’s a pirate, and her true love is supposed to become king in the morning, so they will become enemies. Who else do we know of who has cause for Ultimate Suffering?”

Determined to track the scream to it’s source, Jason tried to push through the motionless crowd. Seeing how fruitless his friend’s attempts were, Dick wordlessly handed him a grappling hook. With a shared grin, the two mercenaries took to Gotham’s rooftops and began racing toward the fading cry.

—

Eventually, Jason and Dick found themselves in a grove of knobby trees. They were certain that the cry had come from somewhere near here, but there was only the slightest sign of human activity in the area - the hint of footprints through the needle strewn forest floor. Just when they were about to search elsewhere, they heard someone walking in their direction. The mercenaries took to the trees just as an oddly dressed woman walked into the grove, pushing a large, creaky wheelbarrow. With a grin, Jason drew his sword, and dropped right in front of her.

Once the tip of his blade was centered over the woman’s heart, Jason began his interrogation. “Where is the Woman in Black?”

The woman shook her head frantically, the bells on the ends of her hat jingling merrily.

“You get there from this grove, yes?”

She remained silent. Jason sighed, and gestured for Dick to come closer. The woman’s eyes widened as yet another man dropped out of the trees. “Grayson, jog her memory, will you?”

Dick casually swatted the back of the woman’s head. She dropped to the ground, unconscious, almost immediately. Dick winced in sympathy while Jason growled in frustration.

“I’m sorry, Jay. I didn’t mean to jog her so hard. Er, Jason?”

The swordsman had dropped to one knee, and appeared to be praying. Dick could barely make out his voice. “Father, I have failed you for so many years. Now our misery can end. Somewhere close by is a person who can help us. I cannot find her alone, I need you. I need you to guide my sword. Please.”

Jason rose to his feet, blade in hand, and eyes still closed. Dick couldn’t understand what Jason meant to do, but he didn’t dare interfere as the other man slowly hobbled through the grove. The swordsman paused near a particularly gnarled tree, before spinning and stabbing one of the knots dead center. Jason opened his eyes, and saw that his prayers had gone unanswered. In despair, the swordsman slumped against a different tree, his elbow landing on yet another knot. Just as Dick was about to comfort his friend, a door within the second tree slid open, revealing a staircase.

The men grinned at each other and descended into the Pit of Despair.

—

The triumphant rescue of the Woman in Black that Dick had envisioned was less than triumphant. In fact, it couldn’t really be called a rescue. Can someone even  _be_  rescued if they’re already dead? The Woman in Black looked much younger than he’d believed her to be, and her expression was calm, in spite of what she must have endured. Dick felt for any sign of a pulse, but there was none. When he told Jason as much, the other man’s expression was grim. After a moment though, an odd gleam entered his eyes.

“Well, I’ve never taken defeat easily. Come along, Dickie-bird. Bring the body.”

Baffled, Dick repeated his friend’s words. “The body?”

Jason didn’t stop as he tromped up the stairs. “You got any money?”

Dick had no idea where this conversation was going. Did Jason want to give the girl a proper burial? “I have a little.“

Jason’s voice rang with determination, and just a hint of wistfulness. "I just hope it’s enough to buy a miracle, that’s all.”

—

It was twilight by the time the odd little party made it to a small cottage just outside of Gotham’s capital. The house was tidy, if a little battered. A neat little garden could be seen peaking around the back of the house, and gray smoke puffed out of the chimney. There was a little sliding window set just above the knob of the door. Jason strode purposefully to the door and knocked three times.

A faint female voice could be heard from inside. “Go away!”

Jason knocked louder this time.

The door slot opened, and a pair of irritated blue eyes peered out. “What is it?”

“Are you the miracle woman who worked for the King all those years?” Jason spoke in his politest tone, which made Dick unaccountably nervous.

“The regent’s stinking daughter fired me.” They couldn’t see enough of the woman’s face to be certain, but she sounded as though she were scowling at them. “ _Thank you_  for bringing up such a painful subject. You know, my father died recently, why don’t you talk about that too?”

Jason raised an eyebrow as if to say  _you’re the one who brought that one up, not me_. The woman’s eyes narrowed in response. “We’re closed!”

When the window slammed shut, Jason heaved a frustrated sigh, and began pounding on the door. The window re-opened. “Beat it or I’ll call the Brute Squad.”

Dick smiled winningly at the miracle woman. “We’re on the Brute Squad.”

Blue eyes looked over the visitors; tall and burly Jason, with his well used sword at his waist, and wiry Dick holding a grown woman like she weighed nothing. “You  _are_  the Brute Squad.”

Jason decided to cut in before Dick could start flirting with someone he’d only ever seen the eyes of. “We need a miracle, it’s very important.”

“Look, I’m retired. And besides, why would you want someone the regent’s stinking daughter fired? I might kill whoever you wanted me to miracle.”

Jason gestured to the Woman in Black, “She’s already dead.”

The woman’s eyes suddenly took an interested gleam. “She is, eh? I’ll take a look. Bring her in.”

The moment the door swung open, the mercenaries hurried inside. Dick carefully set his burden down on a low table near the fireplace. He tried to position the Woman in Black’s arms beside her torso, but one of them was insistent on dangling over the edge of the table. Resigned, he turned to ask the miracle woman for her opinion, and stopped dead.

Seated in a wheeled chair was the most beautiful woman Dick had seen outside of his dreams. The blue eyed woman who had met them at the door appeared far too young to be retired; there wasn’t the slightest hint of gray in her shining red hair. The only thing that kept Dick from declaring it love at first sight was the unsettling expression on her face. The miracle woman was gazing at Jason like he was some sort of ghost. Jason was glowering back at her in what Dick recognized as his “defensive” glare.

“Er, Miss…?”

The miracle woman turned her attention to Dick, and wheeled over to the table. She briefly inspected the Woman in Black’s body before declaring her judgement. “I’ve seen worse,” her eyes briefly glanced at Jason when she said this. “By the way, call me Barbara.”

She continued to poke at the corpse in front of the fire for a few moments. Jason grew twitchy. “Ma'am, we’re really in a terrible rush.”

Barbara glared up at the tall swordsman. “Don’t rush me, brat. You rush a miracle woman, you get rotten miracles. Do you have any money?”

Dick withdrew a small purse from his pocket. “Sixty-five.”

Barbara huffed, “I’ve never worked for so little. Except once, and that was a very noble cause.”

Dick knelt before the redhead, and adopted his most guileless expression. “This is noble, miss. Her father is ill, and her siblings are on the brink of starvation.”

The miracle woman’s lips twitched into an almost smile. “You are a terrible liar.”

Dick smiled in a way that was both charming and abashed. “I should have known better than to try to get something past a lady as intelligent and cultured as yourself.”

Barbara didn’t seem to know how to respond to such blatant attempts at flattery, and Jason had no patience with his friend’s flirtatious habits. He casually wrenched Dick out of the miracle woman’s direct line of sight and explained his situation to her. “I need her to help me avenge my father, murdered these past many years.”

Barbara was unimpressed. “Your first story was better.”

She did an about-face, and wheeled over to a worktable with various tools strewn across it’s surface. She muttered to herself, “Where’s the bellows?” Once she found the tool, she wheeled back to the Woman in Black, talking all the while. “She probably owes you money, I bet. Well, I’ll ask her.”

Dick was stupefied. “She’s dead. She can’t talk.”

Barbara smirked at her guests. “Show’s how much  _you_  know. It just so happens that your friends here is mostly dead. There’s a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Could you open her mouth for me?”

Jason obliged the odd request. Barbara calmly inserted the bellows into the Woman in Black’s mouth, and started pumping them. As she worked, she carried on her lesson. “Now, mostly dead is slightly alive. All dead… well with all dead, there’s usually only one thing you can do.”

Dick gamely asked what that one thing was. Barbara smirked again as she removed the bellows. “Go through their clothes and look for loose change.”

Before the miracle woman could get back to work, Jason piped up. “You said there’s  _usually_  only one thing you could do. What are the other options?”

Barbara froze for a moment, before giving Jason a wary look. “If you had access to a Lazarus Pit, you might be able to do something about the situation.”

Jason didn’t like the tone of Barbara’s voice, but he couldn’t pin down quite why.

After a momentary standoff, the woman returned to her work. She slapped the Woman in Black’s cheeks and called into her ear. “Hey! Hello in there. Hey! What’s so important that you’ve got to come back? What have you got here that’s worth living for?”

Barbara pressed down on the Woman in Black’s chest, causing the air to come whooshing past her lips. The words, if they could be called that, were garbled. “Tr…ooo…luv…”

The three alert occupants of the room stared at the body for a moment. Jason, a closet romantic, broke into a wide grin. “True love. You heard her! You could not ask for a more noble cause than that!”

“Brat, true love is the greatest thing in the world. Except for a good piece of chocolate. But that’s not what she said.” The two men stared in disbelief. “She distinctly said 'to blave.’ And, as we all know, 'to blave’ means 'to bluff.’ So you were probably playing cards, and she cheated.”

Jason was about to become truly angry with the overly cynical miracle woman, when the door to the back room crashed open. A tall woman with straight blonde hair stormed towards the redhead in the chair. “Liar!”

“Dinah, what are you-”

“'True love.’ She said, 'true love,’ Babs. My god, how can you be so cold?”

Barbara attempted to retreat from the blond invader, to no avail. “Get back, Dinah!”

Dinah continued ranting as though she hadn’t heard the other woman. “I know this sort of work is upsetting for you after what happened with the king’s ward-”

“Don’t say another  _word_ , Dinah.”

The blonde changed tactics, and began addressing the two men. “She’s afraid. Ever since Lady Talia fired her, her confidence is shattered.”

Now Barbara appeared outraged. “That’s not what happened!”

“Then  _do_  something. A life is expiring and you don’t have the decency to say why you won’t help-”

“I don’t  _owe_  them anything more than I’ve already-”

“This is Prince Damian’s true love. If you heal her, she might disrupt whatever plans the al Ghul’s have for him.”

Barbara and Dinah stopped fighting the moment those words left Jason’s tongue. Barbara gave Jason a considering look, then looked at the darkly clothed corpse again. “I make her better, and the al Ghul’s suffer?”

Jason’s grin was bloodthirsty, “Humiliations galore!”

Barbara’s gave her customers a grin that matched Jason’s. “That  _is_  a noble cause. Give me the sixty-five, I’m on the job.”

—

Sunset was painting the castle ramparts a luminous orange when Jason and Dick climbed the outer wall with their unusual cargo. When they reached the top, Jason tried to arrange the Woman in Black’s stiffening limbs while Dick anxiously surveyed the courtyard below. Sometime between the acrobat’s reunion with Jason, and this evening, the guard at the front gates had been more than doubled.

“Jay, there’s more than thirty.”

Jason grinned cockily at his friend. “What’s the difference?” He gestured to the mostly dead girl slumped against a parapet. “We’ve got her. Now help me force feed her.”

“Has is been fifteen minutes? Barbara said we had to wait that long for full potency.”

“I don’t think we can wait. Someone could find us here if we wait too long.”

Instead of asking why they hadn’t just waited somewhere else, Dick carefully angled the Woman in Black’s head back and opened her mouth. Jason carefully inserted a chocolate covered pill, and massaged the woman’s throat to ensure it didn’t get stuck.

“How long do you think we’ll have to wait before we know if the miracle works?”

Jason shrugged. Just as he opened his mouth to reply, a panicked feminine voice interrupted. “I’ll tear you both apart. I’ll beat you both together.”

Dick hummed thoughtfully. “I guess not very long.”

Jason nodded in mute amazement. The Woman in Black didn’t seem very impressed with the situation. “Why won’t my arms move?”

“You’ve been mostly dead all day.”

Seeing that his comrade’s words weren’t illuminating the situation, Jason joined in. “We had Miracle Babs make a pill to bring you back.”

The woman clearly felt that this explained very little. “Who are you? Are we enemies? Why am I on this wall? Where’s Damian?”

“Let me explain-” Jason paused, and shook his head. “No, there is too much. Let me sum up. Damian is supposed to be crowned in the morning. Then he’ll be stuck here forever, and forced to marry some vapid noblewoman by his grandfather. So, all we have to do is sneak in, steal the Prince, and make our escape. After I kill the Joker.”

The Woman in Black stared down at her hands, where one of her fingers began to twitch. “That doesn’t leave much time for dilly dallying.”

Dick gave her arm a reassuring pat. “At least you’ve wiggled your finger. That’s wonderful.”

The woman’s smile was wry. “I’ve always been a quick healer. So, what are our liabilities?”

Jason and Dick raised their ally so that she could see over the edge of the wall. “There is only one working castle gate, and it’s guarded by sixty men.”

“Our assets?”

“Our combined brains, Dick’s agility, and my steel.”

The woman was stunned. “We are so screwed.”

“Welcome to the team, Black Lady.”

“Call me Stephanie.”

—

Lady Talia was visiting Damian in his small, windowless room when they heard a great commotion coming from the castle gate. His mother had been attempting to soothe Damian’s concerns about the fate if his beloved, to no avail. The guards’ cries of terror gave the prince more hope than a thousand of Lady Talia’s words.

“That’s it, I’m leaving.”

Wait, what?

“You heard me. She’s out there with Grayson and that fool, Todd. I refuse to continue sitting around, playing the damsel in distress. Please excuse me, mother.” Damian wrenched open the door, left unlocked for his mother’s visit, and began racing down the corridor.

Or he would have, if a squad of his grandfather’s men hadn’t arrived just as Damian was leaving.

As one, the guards drew their weapons. “My lord prince, your honorable grandfather has sent us to escort you to his location, for your own safety.”

Damian eyed their naked blades dubiously, and dropped into a defensive stance. “Tt. Of course you are.”

—

The many stories that reached Gotham about the Batman hadn’t prepared Slade for  _this._  The Batman couldn’t be a mere human pirate. He  _flew_. He was on  _fire_  and was seemingly unbothered by it. Those facts, combined with the threats that seemed to echo around the courtyard, were enough to frighten away all of Slade’s men. But not Slade Wilson himself.

Now that a tall, angry man had a sword to his jugular, the Guard Commander was regretting his choice not to flee. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The swordsman gestured to his ominous friend in black. “Dick, rip his arms off.”

Somehow, Slade didn’t doubt that the shorter man could accomplish such a feat. “Oh, you mean  _this_ key.”

—

 _Note to self_ , Damian thought,  _it is inadvisable for one unarmed man to go up against eight armed opponents._  The prince, now bruised and battered, had been forcefully escorted to his grandfather’s private study. The old demon eyed him consideringly from behind his massive desk.

“Given your vexing rebellious streak, perhaps it is for the best that we move forward with our plans tonight.” Damian had no opportunity to speak before Ra’s turned to one of the guards. “Escort his highness to the Lazarus Pit. Sensei and I will be there shortly.”

—

The trio of intruders had no idea where they were going. They were racing along the palace corridors blindly when they found their quarry. Well, Jason’s quarry at least.

The Joker was unmistakeable. He was oddly pale, and the scars running from his mouth made it appear as though he were always wearing a terrible smile. Though Jason couldn’t remember ever seeing him before, he knew the man on sight. The Joker surveyed their tiny party with cold amusement before directing the squad of guards behind him.

“Kill the two boys, but leave the girl in black for questioning.”

Jason dealt with the men handily when they blindly rushed at him. A few smooth jabs and parries, and the entire squad was on the floor, wounded or dead. He pointed his bloodied sword straight at the Joker.

“Hello, my name it Jason Todd-Wayne. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”

For a moment, when he unsheathed his own blade, it appeared that the Joker would stand and fight. Due to this false presentation, the Joker was able to get a few second’s head start when he raced away down the hall. Jason wasted no time dashing after him, but it was to no avail. The Joker had turned down a stairway, and locked the door behind him.

Jason made several futile attempts at breaking the door down before calling for aid. “Dick! I need you!”

Distantly, Dick cried back. “But I can’t leave Steph all alone!”

Jason ineffectually kicked at the door once more. “Please! He’s getting away!”

After a moment, the acrobat appeared at his side. “Aim your kick there, and I’ll aim mine here. We’ll do it together on the count of three, okay?”

The door stood no chance against their combined might, and Jason was soon in pursuit once more. While he hurtled towards a confrontation with his father’s killer, Jason was unaware that Dick had somehow lost their infirm ally.

—

Damian had been left alone inside the chamber housing the Lazarus Pit. The room was massive, and the glowing water cause the prince’s hair to stand on end. He couldn’t be sure of exactly what his grandfather planned to do, though he was certainly it boded ill for the kingdom, and even less well for Damian himself.

Whatever Ra’s had planned, Damian was determined not to be a part of it, one way or another. There were no guards in the room with him, and precious few weapons, but Damian was able to find something that would be of use to him. The knife was small and ragged, left in a corner by some guard or builder ages ago, but it still had a sharp point. That was all Damian needed. He raised it to his chest, and was just about to thrust the blade into his heart when a familiar voice rang out.

“There’s a shortage of perfect male specimens in the world, it would be a shame to see you damaged.” Stephanie was leaning against a nearby wall, looking tired and beat up and beautiful. A million questions ran through Damian’s head in that moment - how was she alive? How did she find him? How did she get past the guards? He pushed them all aside in favor of going to Stephanie’s side, and kissing her senseless.

—

The Joker had been waiting for him, Jason realized. The dagger in his gut was proof enough of that. The swordsman was fairly certain that the blade had missed anything vital, but the pain was making it difficult to focus on anything. The Joker was speaking, and Jason was determined to use the man’s monologue to take him by surprise.

“My, my, it seems like all of the dead are coming back tonight. First that little Bat girl, and now the king’s little robin.”

Maybe it was the blood loss, or possibly the fact that the Joker was a lunatic, but almost nothing that he said made sense to Jason. “What the hell are you talking about?”

The Joker’s chilling cackle filled the banquet room the duelists occupied. “Oh this is too much! I suppose it makes sense - I’m sure that dying like you did would affect your memory.”

Jason forced himself to stand straighter. He felt around the dagger’s entry point, wondering if removing it would make the situation worse. Of course, if Jason continued to fight with it in place, the blade would make mince meat of his organs. “Talk sense, damn you!”

“Little bird, I didn’t kill your father. I killed  _you_.”

Jason was in shock. The Joker’s claims were unbelievable, and the man was a known liar besides. Logically, he couldn’t accept what his opponent was saying. And yet, just today Jason had seen someone brought back to life. There was also the odd reaction that Miracle Babs gave him- the confused and wary looks combined with her cryptic words. Jason’s memory of life before he lost his father was so muddled, if the man really  _was_  dead. What if Jason’s own death was the cause of his confusion, as the Joker claimed? “If that’s true, then what happened to my father?”

“After your death, he fled into exile. It wasn’t exactly what the boss man wanted, but it worked out well enough.” The scarred courtier stalked forward, “It’s such a shame to see some of my best work undone, but I suppose that I can rectify that now.”

Jason glared at the man, one hand clutching the dagger in his gut. When the Joker was but a few paces away, the swordsman yanked the blade from is flesh, and flung it at his enemy. The weapon dug into the man’s shoulder with a wet 'thunk’. Jason straightened from his pained hunch, gripping his sword with a blood covered hand, and lunged at the Joker.

The murderous jester had no time to recover from the last blow before Jason was on him. He desperately tried to parry the younger man’s blows, to no avail. The swordsman seemed determined to kill the Joker with a thousand different cuts. When Jason backed the man into the wall near the hearth, he fell to his knees groveling.

“Please, stop.”

Jason snarled. “Offer me money.”

“All that I have, and more.”

“Power too, promise me that.”

“It’s yours.”

“Offer me everything I ever wanted.”

The Joker had been the monster the people of Gotham had feared for years. Now, he knelt sobbing, covered in his own blood. “Anything you want.”

Jason towered above him, expression grim. He was judge, jury, and executioner. “I wan’t my life back, you sonofabitch.”

Jason stabbed his foe one last time.

—

Dick was astounded by the number of fierce and beautiful women he was meeting today. It was like all of his dreams were coming true. Too bad none of them were available. Stephanie was clearly head over heels for Prince Damian (why else would she go to such lengths to rescue him - twice!), while Dick was pretty certain that Barbara and Dinah were involved with each other. The latest woman added to the list of “awesome but unattainable ladies” was Lady Talia.

Dick had stumbled upon the powerful courtier while trying to find Stephanie. Once he saw the lady in person, he could understand how she could induce the former king to forget his honor and have a child out of wedlock with her. Lady Talia was stunning; groomed down to the last eyelash, and surrounded by the bodies of guards she had very clearly dispatched on her own. When she threatened Dick with the stiletto that had killed at least four men already, Dick had the sense to kneel and declare himself to her.

“My lady, I beg your indulgence. I am here with the Batman-” and how odd was it to refer to Stephanie as such? “-And we are searching for you son, Prince Damian.”

Talia considered him coolly for a moment. “My father has imprisoned my son for the last few days, and has now abducted him from his chambers. I do not know what he intends to do, but surely your intentions and those of the Bat-” here her lips quirked into a smile, “- _man_  are more honorable.”

Dick grinned in relief and stood. “If you please, my lady, there was one more member of our party. He left in pursuit of the Joker, and I believe we should find him. Surely it would be best to confront your lord father at full strength?”

Talia nodded regally, and the two of them set off in the direction Jason had disappeared. Now focussed on his friend, Dick completely forgot about the missing Stephanie.

—

Damian pulled away from Stephanie when he felt her stiffen in his arms. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, nothing. Just a few aches and pains left over from dying. I’ll be fine,” she said through grit teeth.

Damian glowered fiercely. “I’ll kill them.”

“Which one? ”

“Both.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that my new buddy Jason is taking care of the Joker right now. Do you think you can handle good old grandpa?” Stephanie’s tone was light and airy, but her expression was anything but.

“Of course.” Damian’s blood boiled when he considered the offenses committed by his grandfather.

“Good, because here’s your chance.”

Ra’s al Ghul, accompanied by a squad of guards and an old, bent man, descended into the Lazarus Pit’s chamber. Damian knew that they were in trouble; he was practically unarmed, and Stephanie had barely recovered from her earlier ordeals, while Ra’s was attended by several well armed warriors. Remembering the sting of his earlier defeat, Damian mentally prepared himself.  _Time for round two_.

“Damian, I suggest that you step away from that harlot. Surely she means you harm.”

Damian scoffed. “I think that we all know who here means to do me 'harm’, Grandfather.”

The regent’s face was stony, “I am hurt by your accusations, child. I assure you that I want nothing more than to see you safe and sound.”

The prince noted how the guards fanned out around the glowing green pool in the center of the room. He was nearly sure that he and Stephanie could handle them, but he was less certain that they would then be able to take on Ra’s and Sensei. There was no hope for it, Damian gripped his beaten little knife tightly and shared a glance with Stephanie. Their eyes met for a moment, and then they sped to the guards on separate sides of the Lazarus Pit.

Damian smoothly slid under the first guard’s defenses, sprung up directly under his chin, and jammed his knife through the slit in the man’s helmet and into his brain. The guard tumbled to the floor, dead. As the body fell, Damian reached out and pulled the dead guard’s sword from it’s scabbard. He had less than a second before a second guard was on him. He slashed at the man’s gut, forcing his opponent to parry, and leaving other areas open. The prince deftly maneuvered his blade under the end of the guard’s chain mail tunic and sliced into his femoral artery. The man bled out in seconds.

Ra’s stood implacable at the foot of the stair, with Sensei vigilantly guarding him. Out of the corner of his eye, Damian saw the flash of Stephanie’s sword as she finished dealing with her last opponent. She caught his eye as the last guard dropped to the floor, and with a nod, the two of them rushed to engage Sensei.

The old master calmly responded to their attacks, dodging each strike fluidly. Already weak, Stephanie was having difficulty keeping up. Her breathing was heavy and her moves were slow. Once Sensei began actively fighting back, Stephanie was quickly kicked aside. Outraged, Damian’s strikes became frenzied. He was very nearly disarmed before he caught himself. Carefully, the prince maneuvered the duel closer to where Stephanie was laying prone on the floor. Sensei had seemingly decided she was no longer a threat, so it came as a surprise to him when the former farmgirl’s blade slid through his back. Damian capitalized on the ancient warrior’s shock, and slammed his stolen blade through the man’s heart.

While Damian helped Stephanie get back to her feet, the mocking sound of slow clapping filled the cavernous room. The couple looked up to see Ra’s smirking, completely confident in his victory. “That was quite the display, children. But you cannot hope to win.”

In an act of pure bravado, Stephanie sniped back at him. “Yeah, how is that? The way I see it, we just took out your little honor guard, and now you’re all alone against the two of us.”

“There is more than one way to raise the dead, little girl. If I wanted to, I could use the Lazarus Pit to return my men to me.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Stephanie was wobbling where she stood, but she still held her sword in a guard position. Damian didn’t understand what she hoped to accomplish until he heard the faint sound of footsteps echo down the stairs them.

“If they could be bested by the two of you, they are of no use to me.” Ra’s removed his dark green cape, revealing the sword strapped to his side. “I suppose I will have to deal with the two of you myself. I had hoped to not have to damage the boy before I took possession of his body, but I suppose it can’t be helped.”

Damian and Stephanie readied themselves for another attack, but just as Ra’s lunged for them, he stopped short. The regent fell to the ground, a dagger buried deep in his back. A low whistle was heard from the dark stairway.

“Where did you learn to throw daggers, my lady?”

Damian’s jaw dropped as his mother stepped into the dim light of the Lazarus Pit’s chamber, accompanied by Dick and Jason. Lady Talia wore an enigmatic smile, “My beloved was quite skilled at many things, and I used to challenge him to contests.”

Stephanie slumped with relief and exhaustion, and Damian wanted to follow suit. His mother had other plans. “My darling, you must leave the palace. Your grandfather’s death does not assure your safety.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are too young to remember the feuding that occurred after the king fled Gotham, but I fear something similar will occur now. Luckily, it appears you have allies who will aid you in an escape.” Talia gestured to her two companions and Stephanie.

The pirate in question grinned slightly. “Besides, I know of someone I think that at least two people here would like to meet. How would you all like to go find the original Batman?”

Jason quirked an eyebrow at her. “Why would we care about some pirate?”

“Not just some pirate. Bruce Wayne was one of the best pirates there was.”

The entire party stared in shock, before Jason let loose a loud whoop. Within minutes, the couple and their mercenary friends agreed to set out in search of the exiled-king-turned-pirate.


	6. Chapter 6

Epilogue

 

Stephanie Brown hated being sick. In some ways it was worse than being injured, because in those cases she could pinpoint exactly why her health had taken a turn for the worse. At least this time she new the reason she was stuck at home, feeling groggy, stuffed up, nauseous, and generally miserable. This was all Damian’s fault.

Well, Dick was partially responsible as well, since he’d asked her to watch the brat. Either way, she was on day three of involuntary sick leave, and Steph was fighting cabin fever as well as whatever bug had initially gotten to the boy wonder. She just hoped she didn’t end up getting pneumonia as well.

Stephanie gazed longingly at her closet, where her Batgirl uniform was hidden. What she wouldn’t give to be out patrolling, instead of lying in bed, barely capable of standing long enough to go the bathroom. The young crime fighter had been craving orange juice for the last hour, but doubted she would make it to the kitchen and back without passing out. She’d been making do with the water bottle perched on her cluttered bedside table, careful not to knock over the multitude of medicine bottles and used teacups. Steph hoped her mom would feel up to emptying the small trashcan that was beside the bed when she got home, as it was overflowing with used tissues.

Stephanie was pulled from her musings by the scraping sound of her window being forced open. Instantly on her guard, in spite of her grogginess, the current Batgirl grasped one of the soiled teacups and prepared to fling it at the intruder. Once she caught sight of the familiar red uniform vest her visitor was wearing, she calmed down. Robin perched on Stephanie’s windowsill, looking flustered and cranky. He reminded Steph of a wet kitten, not that she’d ever mention such a thing to the boy. He’d probably stab her over such an offense.

“Damian, what are you doing here?”

“Tt. I’m in uniform, stick to codenames.”

“Fine. Why are you here,  _Robin_?”

“You didn’t show up for patrol for a few days. I decided to make sure you weren’t dead.”

“Didn’t Bats or Oracle tell you I was sick?”

“No. I had to hack the personnel files.”

“Okay, so you clearly knew that I wasn’t dead, so why did you come here?”

Robin huffed and glared at nothing in particular. The odd mental image of a kitten wearing the Robin costume struck Steph once more, and she decided that the boy needed to stop perching like that at her window before she broke down into giggles. She somehow doubted that the boy would pass off such a laughing fit as a side effect of her cold medicines.

“Get in here and close the window before you get me any more sick than you already have.”

“Tt. It’s not my fault that you have such a pathetic immune system, Brown.”

“Whatever. I had my flu shot this year. You must have been carrying some mutant virus. Besides, I’m not the one who got pneumonia.”  _Not yet, at least_  she mentally added.

“I overcame it more quickly than you are. And now that I’m better, I’m certain that I will not fall victim to this illness again.”

“I don’t think that’s how antibodies actually work, brat.”

“Tt.”

“Did you just come here to harass me? Because I am really not up to dealing with that right now.”

Robin had that wet kitten look again, this time with the addition of a slight blush at the edge of his mask. Awkwardly, he drew a slim, rectangular package from where it had been haphazardly jammed between the vigilante’s utility belt and tunic. “I thought that this might speed up your recovery.”

I wide smile spread across Stephanie’s face when she recognized the familiar packaging of _The Princess Bride_.

“Thanks, Damian. That’s very sweet of you.”

The blush on the boy’s cheeks grew noticeably brighter. In a (failed) attempt to keep Stephanie from noticing, he made his way over to the battered desk across from the bed, where Stephanie kept her laptop. Damian quickly set it up so that the ailing crime fighter could stay in bed while the movie played.

“Do you want to stay and watch it with me?”

“ _Some_  of us still have duties to attend to, Brown.”

“Fine, fine. Do you think that you could at least grab my a glass of orange juice before you go?”

Damian huffed, and Steph expected the boy to refuse. It was the sort of thing he usually would claim was beneath him. Not for the first time, the young vigilante surprised her with his response.

“As you wish.”

Damian stayed for the whole movie.


End file.
